Many seasons I have seen
That bring an April shower
Yet now in this deep wilderness
I feel the dying flower

The festive spirit all but gone
And spring is still so far
I suffer myself to pace the road
I feel I'm under par

It's close to midnight as I go
My shadow growing longer
By light of moon I pace my steps
A hunger getting stronger

I know a small vicinity
Where coffee smells are strong
So there I wander to forget
The dirges in my song.

Upon occasion I could sing
With resonance and tone
And as I sit with piping mug
I rest my flesh and bone.

I sit alone the corner has
The waiter who served me
He does not offer any speech
So I behold a tree

The window overlooks the green
I drink and relish taste
I know too soon I'll take my leave
This world is such a waste
As one o'clock arrives I see
The empty mug and sigh

The distant clouds are gathering
I can't afford the pie.

I rise and wish the waiter there
A cheerful last goodnight
He nods as I go through the door
And vanish from his sight

I feel a little troubled as
I trudge again the road
If he had spoke and wished me well
I'd bear a lighter load.

The storm is rising in my heart
My anger is not far
I stumble on a little rock
And curse a passing car.

The only kind of recompense
I find for feeling this
Is that I have the power to write
My feelings, that's my bliss.

So to a point I am restored
By knowing I can note
The sighings of my heart which feel
Too much my threadbare coat.
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