Silent in the now is snow that falls to ground
like the creep of agony where it can be felt
and I wonder of the two which will be heard
far beyond the borders of this present time.
Snow will leave, depart, and completely disappear
when seasons change and herald in the warm and beautiful
but of agony it beds right in and stays to reappear
at the moment of inception of remembrances.
Inception? Yes, the start of and the very beginning
grows and grows till finally it reaches the end
but agony, that fateful thing, slips past the end
and settles down to await the next sure beginning.
How stupid to believe agony’s a thing like me
that at a thought, an accident, or the run out of time
will leave, depart, completely disappear,
and leave a vacant bed where once it nestled in!