At a walking pace,
the waves gently sway,
a cat naps in her cradle
above a restful lake.
The flowers happily bloom,
the swans open their wings,
to welcome the summer days,
when the air coruscates.
Yet my days are overcast,
for none but the lonely heart,
for the darkest shadows are,
by all other shadows marred.
My heart longs for winter,
when the shy roads are draped
in a shimmering furry coat,
beneath a silent black cloak.