Unfold

Unfold

 

The wind is cold,

Cold and Bitter.

What have I been told

About the winter?

How does this unfold?

 

I have been here before

When my heart was sore

From bright morning lights

And cold, bitter nights.

How does this unfold?

 

My back is broken.

I slipped on fortune,

Landed on my flask.

Again I may ask,

How does this unfold?