For Lynn in Winter

The snows returned today, falling swiftly softly without sound
I stand here between the drifts, a holy sense that somehow surrounds
the silence is absolute as if the world has become hallowed ground
for it is Lynn in winter that I miss now like a fever in this white
memories of what once was fill me, the cold chill of seasonal night
where is my raven red haired lass out here amidst all this light?

The Age of reason is gone, now that ideologies are to be recast,
the tragedies of life, love, and loss- the fatal fallacy of dying to fast
I challenged it all, ignoring all understandings I shared with the past.
I am looking for the Lynn in winter, before it's too late, unforgiven
I am waiting for the moments of passion, the struggles to be striven
the fading smile, the reluctant denial, the desperate days driven.

The cold is all that I have come to accept, the chills are all I know,
like the ice that is found in my soul, the scented smell of fallen snow,
like the drops of tears turned to icicles frozen during the downward flow.
I must move or die, the lack of warmth freezing my utmost desires
the embers of love, the ashes of heartbreak, the death of our fires
I look for Lynn in winter, but she is gone along with all I admired.