Standing cold, on a winter day,
I hear a whisper in the wind say,
gentle tap upon my shoulder, no one's there.
Gazing around, I see nothing but trees,
water and sunlight rays.
Searching my senses, I feel a presence,
one I can not put my finger upon.
Looking beyond the the trees high overhead,
to the ground by my feet instead.
There I see you, peeking up at me,
a red shimmer in a sea of dead.
Two tiny tears of fantastic color,
lapped up in sea of brown, surrounding eachother.
I know I am lucky on this very day,
to have my eyes washed of mute dismay.