She is alone.
More alone than the being she was then;
Before tasting love.
Her only companion is the darkness,
For the moon has decided to deny her
Its handsome luster
And the stars
Have all burned out.
She is alone,
Save the presence of nature's sweetest serenade:
The dying winter breeze.
As the weakened wisps
Waft across the panes,
Their lifeless whispers
Are all that come
To soothe her loneliness.
Though they shall never compare
To the warmth of a lovers wordless whispers;
That even sleeping breath,
The fleeting nature of their presence
Is all she has now.
They are all she will ever have.
For this is the fate
Of the winter widow;
Doomed to suffer through
An endless season of dark, numbness
Never to see the blush of spring grass again.