More Mediocre Poetry

All the time I was hanging on to something less strong

The sun, the glare, a glimmer somewhere

I gazed into what I had, not what I was

I made it, I saw that clear as the air that bounced over into another revelation

Where I saw you murky, muddy, there was the fading away

Who you are, who are you?

Still here yet not stronger still, waiting for the weight to fade

It lies in wait a will to power to be still against it all

You feel, you hear, but cannot see, the birds cry out, they leave the tree

What you will never be, no sight, no flight, a pity

But I will not stay to mourn the nothingness of old

The days grow longer, I shake of the cold of a summer unlived

The frost it plays across your face and I walk as if I could fly

A chill sets upon your lips, you are finally still 

The winter becomes you on a day in June