It is that time of the year

It is that time of the year…

When the vision dims
As the twilight fogs…

And the Blue eyed beauty
Sighs at the misty moon

As she walks down
The Begrimed path

Her frail white hand
Tries to hold
The mist and the sand

She can hold them,
She thinks, she can

The sheen of her whiskers fade
Whiter than the skin

Last winter or last to last winter
Or was it not even cold
When she had sat down the lamp post
And felt it coming…

Just like the mist and the sand
She thought she can
She had tried too hard
to hold…

Welled up a tear
In the blue of her eyes
It is that time of the year

When things were there
But, did not appear
The eyes failed
As the blurry truth took over them

Her tongue felt cold
As she tasted snow
Overpowered by the numbness

She lay there
‘Frozen’
It was that time of the year….