I feel a chill come cross the land.
Summer's long gone.
Winter's at hand.
It seeps in from the North,
Like water through a crack,
And kills the plants while they sleep,
'Til there's no coming back.
It gets down deep in my bones,
And chills me to the core.
No matter how I cover up,
The chill claims more and more.
It slowly saps my lifeblood,
And takes me to my knees.
Until I long for a tropical night,
With a warm onshore breeze.
But then I wake up,
From that warm dream.
And feel the cold knife down my back,
With fingers so sharp and mean.
That I wish I were in a tropical clime.
Spending my days so sublime,
Living life filled with thrill,
And never again, feel the chill.
Copyright 1999 (c) Ronald W. Hull