A poem for these times

I write a poem for these times,

as winter is here and so much

hidden fear follows us across

the strangeness of these days,

and no one knows when spring will

come and if the flowers of the soul

will sprout again from out of this dark

history that sweeps us along in

its storms of clinging uncertainty.


I write this verse for all of you who

make your way across such winter days

and weeks with no more than a flickering

hope that these times will not be the only

ones to define you and seize your human

passion to take all that is on offer in this life.


Perhaps tomorrow the flowers will show their

colours once more and you and I will smell the scent

again and sit together in the sun and chat about the

winter days that came with fear and robbed our joy.