Wishing

Wishing Steeled against the bitter winter chill, I sit and wish, and in my wishing see That fate, if only fate could feel, might still Reverse the course of paths that shouldn’t be. Icy fingers grasp at every thread Of my existence, halting life’s cruel pace Which time and I both share. And so we dread The spring, who’s coming might reveal the face Of destiny that somehow passed us by. And so, as in some mediaeval rhyme, Beneath a sparkling forest brook you lie; Eyes open, staring, unaware that time Can change the feelings you will always miss, Since death withheld it’s long and lingering kiss.