ice is forming –
on the windows –
now.
i hear the whistle of the wind –
its song,
so sad!
everywhere –
in cold secluded –
silence.
every-thing – captured
within grey!
no longer do the birds
in joyful chorus-
sing happily their songs.
their words lie frozen –
broken as the surface of the sky.
i touch the glass –
to wipe the discontent away –
to see if i may find you there –
peering in –
desperation eyes –
searching –
longing!
but i find only lonely shades of winter –
placid as the frozen sea –
of your indifference!
standing too close to the edge 