A lonely leaf at
last gives way
To join the
vibrant forest floor.
Autumnal rage has
had its day,
And quiet Winter
knocks the door.
The days grow
short and light recedes
Before the
grasping winter night.
The harvest heat
to cold concedes,
And Nature shivers
in her plight.
The birds have
fled to southern lands,
And wary bears
have gone to ground.
A chilly pilgrim
rubs their hands
Upon a journey
homeward bound.
In howling wind
and driving snows
The traveller must
forge their path,
But in their
hearts the home-fire glows
And guides them
through the snow storm's wrath.
But hope is frail
when darkness reigns,
When sap is
freezing in the trees
And ice is
coursing through your veins,
For then it seems
all life will freeze.
And ghosts are
born in winter time
And rise each year
to grip our hearts.
An ever striking
pantomime
Where memory
replays its parts.
A few bring grief
and others joy,
Of love, long gone
or never found
Or waiting,
whether girl or boy
In love we trust,
our hopes abound.
And so the trials
of darkest night
And bitter bite of
deepest cold
Remind us how to
seek the light,
And find our
warmth within the fold.
In company our
freedom lies
From bleak despair
and lonely grief.
That's why the
pilgrim always tries
To reach the door
that hangs a wreath.
Beyond that door
is festive cheer,
Where song and
laughter fill the air.
So come and taste
the food and beer
And curl up on a
fireside chair.
The weary pilgrim
finds their home
And through the
storm their knocking's heard.
They now no longer
need to roam
And “Joy” has got
the final word.
Joy.
Robert Best is a Corellian starfighter trapped inside the body of a Terrestrial security guard outside Edinburgh. He handwrites most of his work to while away his long and lonely night shifts. However, if you wanted to hear more of his poetry or read his fantastical fiction you're going to have to wait for him to get off his backside to put it online.
Robert Best is a Corellian starfighter trapped inside the body of a Terrestrial security guard outside Edinburgh. He handwrites most of his work to while away his long and lonely night shifts. However, if you wanted to hear more of his poetry or read his fantastical fiction you're going to have to wait for him to get off his backside to put it online.
I am glad that Joy triumphed and that Hope trumped darkness, from one log fireside to another I look forward to perhaps Spring vanquishing steely Winter
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