Winter's Call O, can you hear her? Yonder autumn days? A siren's voice, as silent steps she takes? Her nuanced hymn brings frosty morning haze, And warns the trees to brace for pearly flakes. Her feigned allure she pairs with lovely sights, And softly laughs when warmth she steals from me. I fear her touch, for long will be the nights; She'll hold my face, until spring sets me free. And yet, her comely gown I yearn to see, As she performs her waltzes in the day. So soft her smile as she begins her spree, My heart applauds the dazzling white ballet. Through autumn's haze her words I faintly hear; She pleads with me, her cold arms not to fear. Should Words Fail Me Should I be lying on our bed As darkness waits for my last breath, Upon your face I wish to shed My one last glance, then laugh at death. Should frailty cause my arms to die, And I'm unable hugs to share, Please know with every breath I sigh, My love for you I will declare. Should darkness veil my aging eyes, And keep your lovely face from me, I will replay the smile I prize, Within my mind, where I can see. Should words then fail to freely flow From my old lips to say goodbye, With my last breath you'll surely know How deeply you are loved, and why. Long Is A Poet's Night Return, my muse, my voice give back, For night has yet to settle down. As sundown dims to shades of black, My thoughts in fading ink now drown. My fleeting words are barely there, Unnoticed, lines that crave the light. So please, my friend, see my despair, And grant me words that I may write. This darkness hides the world outside; It veils my eyes so I can't see. Rich colors daylight had supplied, But now my words will not pour free. Beside the window, dressed in black, I sit, and frown, for night has won. My coffee cools, my pen holds back, My muse has left me, like the sun. Angel L. Villanueva is a religious man who resides in Massachusetts, enjoying a simple life with his lovely wife, Nina.