December

Cold winds whistle through the trees

through the trees and dimly-lit alleys 

a chill to freeze the night. 

Smoke drifts between the drunks on the streets

on the streets they wander with no real place to be

a whisper of the year gone by. 

December sings a tune of mist and fog

mist and fog shroud the distant spring’s song

a weeping winter sigh.

A voice echoes through the annals of every hall

every hall taunts of the recently-deceased fall 

another day is nigh. 

I stumble through creeping thoughts of you

thoughts of you which tumble to and from view 

a distant January sky. 

We struggle to bridge the miles between the days

between the days the warming sun lazily lays

a moon to endlessly shine.

We are painfully trapped within the seasons

within the seasons the earth spins as it pleases

a yearning hope for you and I.

This December tastes of a bittersweet melody 

a bittersweet melody longs for eventual spring

a dream creeps slowly by,

and I will embrace the winter’s chill.

(forgive some of the grammar issues which off-rhymes superseded)