Outside the cold had settled in
as if winter need never come again
through window glass looking out
it must have been less apparent for him
but when i touched the feelings became clear to me
a distance, left not to know
the sentiments for a child in ice and snow.
Inside warmth, a stark contrast
was harder to see but stronger to last
a clipping from a newspaper past,
or a story told with a sense of pride
about a son who struggled to come inside.
Through glass I perceived things differently
simplifying what I did not understand
the prospect of comfort from within
or the stubbornness of a man.
Outside the sky was grey and cold
through my window mourning
But within the fire burns
and leaves me with feelings of adoring.
Contrasts I have come to know, pleasant thoughts to suffer
Left now only with the memories of my father.