the march

the frozen morning dew clung close to the dead grass
as my hopes for a swiftly returning spring withered
so i continue to walk
my steps tapping that familiar winter beat
i begin to hear the whispered words of a prayer
solemn echoes that dance between my chattering teeth
i tell myself to believe
that it truly is only a matter of time
before i reap the fruits
of the dreams i've sown

you see
the days don't end so early now
the sun has chosen to stray above the horizon
which is where my eyes choose to stay
with the darkest of days behind us
still i keep my hopes
to outlast the most solemn of seasons

i as well cling to that horizon
looking twoards a night spent
in winter's strangling hands