Six Sonnets - III. The Lover Waits

If it were any other time of year
Except when as now it is too cold to
Breathe, I would confess what I now fear
That I am in love. If it were Spring new
And bold I would be free, instead the weight
Of the nothing wind keeps me imprisoned
And my speech locked. Now it is too late
To think of even braver seasons when
Summer has fled to shelter in the past.
Even the Autumn gold has been stolen
And thus stripped of strength and wealth I must last
Until fate breaks my silence open.
Winter has no heart and so makes mine sad
When shut away from love I wish I had.