Same Old Song
The torn remain
of what was plain
waves now ore frozen ground,
in winds that blow
cold ice and snow
and other feelings down.
There isn’t much
left in a touch
to calm the trembling hand.
For winter’s chill
falls colder still
in cloak across the land.
The settled dust
and cankered rust
guard safe against the grain,
while fading dim
from deep within
gives root to growing pain.
How did it go
from there to here?
How could it end so wrong?
A love once whole,
two lives once full…
yet still the same old song.
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