Fragments

⤞in the bleak midwinter

My heart plays
a requiem
for slaughtered symphonies
in my mind,
that sing of silence
and of saudade,
and all the
melancholy I can find,
yet in the bleak midwinter,
hope is but a shiver
in my past,
and frost laces
the tail-end of my yearnings,
imbuing a chill that
will surely last
well into the coming new year,
yet I'll dream of
a better day,
when the melodies
I long for
are only a wish away.