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You watch the frosted scene outside your window;
Winter’s presence forcing autumn to a close,
Its last leaves fall helplessly, surrendering,
A multi coloured blanket on the snow.

You watch through pale blue eyes so slightly hardened,
Uncaring of the seasonal stormy war,
Ignorant towards the metamorphosis,
Your season’s stormy change is raging too.

You know the world keeps turning in your absence,
Still you miss the touch of raindrops on your skin,
They're strangers while you hide behind your window,
Your season begs unceasingly to change.

My hand upon your skin; a simple comfort,
As your agony, so slightly, slips away,
Your season's metamorphosis will soon cease,
You'll be free to brave the elements again.

By: Ruth Ní Bheoláin