Sonnet 24/01/03                        DCCLXXXII

I weep, but my tears freeze: I hear them break,
Shattered to dust. What can I do, to mourn
All I have lost? Ashes and sackcloth make
Small change in my attire, and all is torn.
What flowers might I bring, to past dream's grave?
It does not matter: Just clay is at hand.
All blows away- I cannot even save
Memories from chill wind, nor frost withstand.
Winter has truly come: My heart feels chill,
Beyond the touch of fire. Hope has no place
Of refuge, nor can desires linger still:
Only despair alone can season face.
Numb with the cold, fingers struggle to write:
In truth, the color of death may be white.