A Far Greater Chill Poem by Gert Strydom

It was my forty sixth year to heaven
and autumn was in the trees
and a slight breeze frizzled my hair
touching me with the first icy fingers

but the sky was clear and blue
and some wild doves cooed in the trees
and I would have been happier with summer,

but the flowers were still blooming
from shower after shower of rain
and I was alone again
with the winter
of our relationship setting in
which was a far greater chill.