Cold Spring

I've seen dreams of winter's end, soil naked grey shadows of sun. Dead birds on the blackened snow. Awaiting something really dark Mist and wet spring wind are my only companions in twilight They are always with me when the last snow dies Only a few windows are enlightened What am I searching for among these archaic black ghost like houses? Dreams never give answers, only after taste... But effaced keys in my hand, Old stairs squeak, in dull light, at the round table. Shadows of those, who gave me My only companions Mist and wet spring wind.