Beautiful artist
With sketches on your arms
Creativity, caused by pain
Digging in icy mud
Sleeping in the ruts
You’ve been buried in
A pull on your dead arm
When you roll over
In sleep and dreams
Tears hidden from my eyes
By dead branches and fallen leaves
The spring is never coming
Your subconscious screams
Only winter to be buried in snow
And broken dreams
The hand that once caressed your cheek
Now lovingly cradles that drink
Turns a back to you
The mistake of motherhood
Nature can’t point to
Sleep sleep sleep
Maybe she’ll wake up
Look for you in the in-between
Of winter sky and winter ground
Call your name and beg for reply
Where is her boy