February a month still stark naked from the death of fall;
is covered with thin frost on the ground –
slippery ground, white ground,
crunching noises is heard down below:
as a figure shuffles outside in the frost-bitten breeze
nipping at the body shivering from the wild winds.
Fog cover miles and miles beyond the eye line of the sky.
Things not seen within 5 metres of the path,
just pure greyness, a mist that has come into our ways
keeping the dreaming world at bay;
and reality world in a distant coastal area.
Grey is what keeps the city all year round –
colours is what brings the city alive.
Winter blues is common and
February a month still stark naked from the death of fall:
has no colours but grey? ! Oh colours of spring
come and sprout out to the joyfullness
of the sweet bird chirps that come now
in this sterile city.
Cheer up the blues;
the figures that walk about with the frost-bitten breeze.
February a month still stark naked from death of fall;
starts slowly to alighten from the long wintry days;
that formed the cocoon of all the figures and objects
below and above the sky line,
with thin frost on the ground –
it melts away and in comes spring jumping;
leaving behind…
…the grey that has kept everyone
in their protective cocoon.
