TUMULTUARY

The weary traveler wrote for a grey knitted coat that she wore one day
She made her home in the snow and for the winter she wrote for the warmth of May

The romantics of life yet burdened by strife, that which made her shy
In an old red cafe she left the thoughts of that day in her painted sky

Oh, for all she knew was once in the center,
The strength of her heart in the cold of the weather as he leaves

Yet the stricken old pine he had known for a time, hadn’t felt the same
He was a man of belief, of romanticized grief with a fragile frame

In a shadow he saw his refracting bourgeois of a tepid flame
In a corner he saw his Westerners flaw when she said his name

Oh, for all he knew was once in the center,
His feeble words that said ‘bye forever’ cannot stay

Paint by Pieter Bruegel the Elder The Hunters in the Snow