Same time a year ago, snowy driveways,
frozen roads, icicles on naked trees,
for several dreaded despairing days.
I dreamt of July and a summer breeze
as the dreary darkness wore out its stay.
But even through this darkness bleak, I sought
a break in time. I did not want these days
to end, ’tis the passage of time I fought.
And so it’s true of our fondest wishes:
Of highs, of moments of joy unsurpassed,
that trail gloom toward weary finishes,
where we choose to let go or to make it last.
Awaiting seasons’ ends and new tomorrows,
we watch each sunset with immense sorrow.