Last Winter -Poetry by George Sutherland
I put down my phone and sat fearfully Frozen. Hot, thick tears streamed down My melting face. They bothered me, But I couldn’t wipe them away. It was inevitable for some time. I thought I would be ready, But that was wishful thinking. So I just sat. Frozen in the whisperings of loss. Unable to move. I thought of what he meant to me. The hunting, the fishing, the storytelling. All great memories, not forgotten but lost. Last winter was cold, but that day was a chill all its own.
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