Falling Snow Poem by Jonathan H. Scott

I used to be a somebody;
A father, lover, friend.
It's hard to fathom yesterdays,
As winter nears its end.

The nightingale has no more song,
As spring has long been gone.
And, too, green grass and babbling brooks,
As summer moved along.

Then, autumn came and went so fast;
The colors were a blur.
The Long Nights Moon is rising now.
(I do know this for sure.)

Alone within my prison house,
No thing is as it seems.
Though caught between both life and death,
I nightly dream my dreams.

I used to be a somebody;
A father, lover, friend.
It's hard to fathom yesterdays,
As winter nears its end.