Sonnet 15 - Cold

There is no hope in Spring – no warmth, no light.
New leaves - new lies - the land’s awash with green
and anguished growth. All seems hale and whole, bright
with the promise of verdant joy. It’s been

a long and lonely season and I need
some sign that ice will not be all my glade.
My dreams have found me lacking. No words read
true - my thoughts are unhomed, my faith unmade.

Find me, free me, heal me – I would not know
Night forever. Grief has been my mistress
so long that I cannot think she would show
mercy now, nor permit kind Love’s redress.

Fresh hope was all the boon I asked of Spring.
I’m mired in winter and warmth’s found wanting.