Tuesday 9th January
It's cold, it's chilly
In winter's grasp
Sombre grey skies
With a muted clasp
Bare, brittle branches
Stretch in silent call
Hard ground beneath
A frozen crawl
Nature at a standstill
In hibernation's hold
A crisp, raw landscape
That's stark and bold
Love you so much
Beloved sons
Treasured Mum
xxxxx
Jan9