outside my office window

the memory of green will not sustain
through the long winter the dull grey
provides a chill even on brightest day
the sleeping trees awaken all my pain
there's never hope from snow or rain
it seems a tragedy bare branches sway
even the squiirrels don't seem to play
sunlight itself appears to groan and strain
now here these greens dark and pale
varied colours of the morning flowers
tell us that grey skies cannot truly last
the wind now soothes it does not wail
we have some perfect gentle hours
and throw our suffering into the past