Why did you bring me here?
The sand is white with snow,
Over the wooden domes
The winter sea-winds blow—
There is no shelter near,
Come, let us go.

With foam of icy lace
The sea creeps up the sand,
The wind is like a hand
That strikes us in the face.
Doors that June set a-swing
Are bolted long ago;
We try them uselessly..
Alas there cannot be
For us a second spring;
Come, let us go. Sara Teasdale

Winter in the Abstract….a desolate moonlit place, a metaphor for the end of one stage of our lives… we can’t go back…whatever was left undone this year has to remain so…..we can only look forward to a new day, a new rollercoaster ride….as the poet says "For us there cannot be a second spring"

Watercolour on Arches Paper