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.