Library
Profile
A Winter of Discontent
A Winter of Discontent
They say, in all their wisdom,
That every bright summer of love
Is followed by a winter of discontent
Oh, think of it! There is much truth to it.
Remember, poor heart, of how you lived through it
It is nearly a year ago now – how time flies, sigh!
Yet above us lies unbroken that very same sky.
“To love truly is to let go” – they said this too!
Alas, if they only knew how hard it is to do.
To lose you was no honourable surrender
But to cut away a part of me, sore and tender.
I looked for it, I searched it high and low
Whenever sleep receded like a wave,
And to discover everyday its very absence
Was like another step closer to the grave.
Of all their pompous phrases, there’s one
It says, “Time dries your wounds like a burning sun.”
Oh, but does it really? Well, let’s see for ourselves
My heart doesn’t bleed or…wait, perhaps it does.
It just becomes a bodily function, a thing of routine
The blood just flows out wi
thout your knowing.
But those wounds…do they ever fully heal?
One simply learns to bear what one might feel.
But in the winter of discontent, I confess I know
That this sore heart still burns when those cold winds blow
As they did last year too, those wounds all too new
My throat sore, every morning, with the cold dew
My eyes would flicker like glittering cinema screens
Playing, again, without any relief, those favourite scenes
Scenes forever frozen in the hard ice of my mind
Even as the very things, the very words are left behind.
And now, as the sun loses its healing heat
I feel, again, my heart chime its broken beat
Oh, but what a joy to feel it beat albeit with pain!
It is like walking down a London street wet with rain
Where every drop pierces the heart like a little jewel
And my eyes smile with the love of a besotted fool
“A glorious summer” lies ahead, those idiots say
Bah! Give me this winter of discontent any day!
