Life's Long Winter

A dark poem about a forlorn house.

You can stare through my window. You can take a look at me, but I am not beauty. I've become ill through my aging.

These walls are empty; my life's no victory. My time stings from the cold, it will leave you frozen. This life is not golden.

You can love me to today, but you can't love me tomorrow. You can't stay on a wheel that's in motion.

So meager meander down my shaded path to the house of forever past where the vines drape over the forgotten.

I know you can't see me, it's all just pretend; this house seems inviting, but it's near broken.

Its shell is straight, a hallmark so enticing. Prestigious to the naive who are lured by such affliction.

Spellbound you are, a fairy tale dream, lost in the belt of its clamor.

If your eyes were clean, If your eyes noticed me, confounded you would be, a jail you would see.

A life long winter.

-Aaron Chapman