My Scarf, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My Scarf

My Scarf

Winter’s bitter cold gripped a local lake.
Flat before me of white turning to gray,
Melding into the color of the sky.
There would be no glimmer of sun today!

There were no sounds of the woodsy creatures,
Just a bass sound coming from naked trees,
Tossing to the will of the northwest winds.
Had the feeling that only I exist.

Wondering if I dare to wander out.
Could I be given greater solitude?
What is to be gained by such a visit?
With skis locked in place I bolted from the shore

Looking back at my scarf upon a tree,
To get a sense of where I might be now.
It sat quietly on the horizon
Warning that no further shall I proceed.

Turning fully around, heard not a sound.
Trees in the distance now a solid mass.
Was not feelings of exhilaration!
Just a dim feeling of isolation!

Here there does not exist a tender touch
None to wipe the tears in my misty eyes
To share my joys of every loving day
None to really care should I live or die

I feel the wind crossing my ruddy cheeks,
But it did not speak. This is solitude.
Learned it is something I can do without,
As I replaced my scarf around my neck.

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