For Alma de la Luna.

Here now...comes the fall...that which was was living...must surrender to all.
The leaves of summer...once full of green life...float to the ground...a lesson in strife.
The air of our bodies...once fresh and so clear...struggles in autumn to maintain our cheer.
The doldrums of winter beckon beyond...as does the grim reaper...whom all must respond.

It shatters my senses to know once again...that another year passes...but never an end.
I see in the wind a cold winters' day...that creeps ever closer...the farther I stay.
The magic they say...from this time of year...brings joy of the season...and nary a tear.
But who are they now to dictate my terms...for how I have lived...and what I have learned?

One thing for certain can claim what I know...that is the sorrow of winters' cold snow.
Like frost on the ground...it dries up the vine...entombed in the ice...the love that was mine.
Locked in a prison...with nowhere to flee...I freeze in the night...as coldness shakes me.
I knocked on the door...awaiting a call...but silence remains...no answer at all.

Another year passes...another with pain...another with sorrow...another with shame.
Still does the cold of winters' breath blow...it freezes your heart...buried in snow.
Fourteen years have I seen this play...never it changes...to my great dismay.
I ask of the heavens...what happened to spring? What happened to summer?
Why can I not sing?

Silence my friend...of whom life do we share...must I be lonely...to hear what you hear?
Must I be mute...that no song can she hear...when all that I say...falls on deaf ears?
Why o' why...must fall come so soon...for winter must follow...shrouded in gloom!
That is my life...my part and my play...to forever seek summer...on a cold winters' day.

When last I am frozen...and life draws away...I whisper in silence...these words do I say.
As I lie down now... for my long winters' sleep...I will feel the grass...warm on my cold feet.
I will see the sun...as summer can bring...the joy of such life...that came in the spring.
The flowers will bloom of all colors and smell...reminding me often...of life's mystic spell.
Never again...the snow will I face...when in my own reason...I find my own season.

In fields of green and yellow hue...I watch the time pass...for love that was true.
For Alma de la Luna...the question remains...where art thou now living...in heavens' domain?