The winds of winter,
Are blowing away,
The last traces of spring.
Flowers wrinkled, leaves fallen,
Nuts and branches lie scattered,
By the deserted pathway.
These look like my dreams,
Which I hadn’t even fully dreamt,
When you left me to go your own way.
There lies a lonely red petal,
Tentatively on a thorny bush,
This winter, you left my heart that way.
Cruel mistress that you are,
Winter at least has days of warm embrace,
But I am left dry and cold- fallen from thy grace.