Winter's Lament: A Melody of Memories

Winter's Lament: A Melody of Memories

Upon yon hills where winter's breath doth blow,

A man of fifty, marked by time's soft flow.

He loves and fears the season's icy grasp,

For 'tis a mirror of his past, a haunting clasp.

With every gust, a whisper of the past,

A tale of dear parents, too sweet to last.

The wind, the rain, a relentless pair,

Unraveling memories, a burdensome affair.

In the heart of winter, he stands alone,

Amidst the tempest, a soul overthrown.

Their old remote house, in memory dwells,

A sanctuary of love, where nostalgia swells.

A big tree, guardian of familial embrace,

Stands sentinel, time cannot erase.

The tough breeze recalls their laughter's ring,

Yet, in the silence, echoes sorrow's sting.

His children grown, a solace profound,

Yet, in the winter's grasp, grief is found.

For the chill, the rain, the storms that bellow,

Invoke the specters of the past to follow.

A flute, a mournful melody does play,

A sand song, as memories in shadows lay.

The music weaves through time's cruel art,

An ode to love, etched on a wintered heart.

Though years may pass, and children thrive,

His parents' love, in his soul, alive.

He cannot forget, he will not sever,

The bond of love that lasts forever.