In the winter
Our skin splinters
Just like the floorboards,
Of an abandoned house in winter.
It creaks in anguish
It’s cradled memories for as long as the season
Very few are joyful,
Most are melancholic.
A despairing woman once sat on the porch
Sweetly she sang,
Like the fruit grown on the now bare trees
Now she weeps a ghastly cry.