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In a hushed lament, in December I go
Beneath bare boughs in the wild air
Which swirls in torrents, everywhere,
As I wander like a wayward leaf in the snow.

Meanwhile the wind weeps dolefully
In the languid dusk of the winter chill
Forming ivory wreaths on the pearl white hill
Carrying your name - to torture me.

John Lars Zwerenz

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Direction): 
[This option has been removed]
Last few words: 
Ave Maria
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content
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