When the frozen stones of winter came,
allowing the inviting clutches of doubt
to take hold,
exposing the harsh waves of old age
and the rusted blossoms of marriage.

The barren doorways of parenthood
left behind a vacancy,
For the lost eyes of denial
and colorless laughter of anxiety to fill it.

Those misunderstood bruises of silence
were the final current of air needed
to snuff out the dull lanterns of promise.