On A Winter Mourning

Beneath the willow's frozen, brittle shade,
I mourn the garden buried deep in frost.
The tender shoots that once began to fade,
Now sleep beneath the ice, forever lost.

Your tender stem once reached toward warming skies,
But winter came, and shadows stole the sun.
Its icy breath now stills where green hope lies,
When spring’s soft promise barely had begun.

No blossoms rise to meet the bitter air,
No verdant paths to tread where life had grown.
The hush of silence, cold beyond compare,
Hangs heavy in a field of seeds unsown.

Yet in my heart, your roots endure the freeze,
A fleeting warmth amidst the winter’s seize.