The heart becomes a wilderness,
The trees are bare, left bereft
As Winter falls cold and colder
I, no longer bold, grow older,
Your footsteps make no sound, echo,
On the leaf-strewn path, receding.
I wonder at myself left bleeding,
Trying more to bide believing,
But cannot know if your anger –
Was an outburst or soulful season,
Shall we again together have reason
To celebrate the who we are
Or risk space come between us afar.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 