by S.E. Ingraham

Created on: January 02, 2010

As the Year Ebbs Away

Outside the attic window

The snow is flying sideways

And visibility is nil

A wicked wind is howling down

The final month

As if in mourning

Long icicles hang down from

The eaves with such

Pointed determination

And crystalline perfection

They are as frightening

As any weaponry

And even huddling near

The radiator pretending

To be warm enough

Cannot prevent the feeling

That the end is all too close

The scent of eggnog

Lingers in the darkness

Lurking in the corners

Reminders of other years

Of forced gaiety and pretence

When noticing the death of

One year while saying

Hello to the next

Has often brought such

mixed feelings of dread

Learn more about this author, S.E. Ingraham.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.