Tonight, the darkness lingers on
Beneath the winter moon.
Tomorrow’s dawn seems so far off.
It cannot come too soon.
The long, cold nights of winter’s song
Will, someday, warm to spring,
But for tonight, its grip is fierce,
Its winds bitterly sting.
Within the solstice hope grows dim.
Under the moon, dreams die
For lack of light, too little warmth
And no dawn drawing nigh.
Yet, tomorrow the sun will rise,
The moon’s power will wane.
With the new light, warmth will return,
Though winter’s dreams remain.
