Same Old Song

The torn remain

of what was plain

waves now ore frozen ground,

in winds that blow

cold ice and snow

and other feelings down.

 

There isn’t much

left in a touch

to calm the trembling hand.

For winter’s chill

falls colder still

in cloak across the land.

 

The settled dust

and cankered rust

guard safe against the grain,

while fading dim

from deep within

gives root to growing pain.

 

How did it go

from there to here?

How could it end so wrong?

A love once whole,

two lives once full…

yet still the same old song.