A frosted grey eye
Gazes down up upon the world
Filling the firmament with it’s benign appearance
Boredom fills our hearts at the very sight
As if its colourless cataract permeates into our very soul
As the day goes by, the watcher grows weary
And retreats to his celestial castle
But not before draping the sky in darkness
With his silken black cloak
And so each day grows shorter
And each night longer
The chill of ice fills the morning
The sky becomes pregnant with unending rain
As we slowly descend
Into the hands of winter
Winter’s Gaze
