Choices, Chances and Changes

Hymns of praises echoing as trumpets are blown in rhythm – vibrating the earth

The Winter’s songs and voices blending along the chill of the morning air

Melodies of each musical notes soothing every corner of the streets – so enchanting

The beat of the drums chimes with every heartbeat like a chorus – chord after another strumming my heartstrings

As each refrain becomes a symphony – an orchestra to match the season hails the day.

The fog is covering the view like a puzzle is missing – a piece for me to see the picture

I closed my eyes trying to put each pieces together – my mind filled with contention

Questioning how am I to complete the impression in front of me – as confusion clogs my brain

The smog is a contrast from perfection – but the infirmity of the image I am drawn into is like potion

I need to brush off the obscurity to find clarity – vaporise the perplexed painting and find certainty.

The soft breeze of snow filled trees starts to waver and clearing the leaves – brushing the air with relief

Pine cones falling and pilling along the pathway pointing to a chant of lucidity – a signal of welcome

I could hear the raven’s call like a melody of optimism – my breathing serene and calm

I can see spaces of promise resounding to a choir of angels – there’s another note to sing

As the scene displays the magic of the season I can feel the notion for hope – there I started singing along the Winter’s song.

Winter, 22-23