Cold Comfort

his bed, barren bare like the gray, murderous clouds at a window he stood, half-frozen arduously distracted by larks in full duet lurking among the mulberry bushes how miserably they failed him unable to lift his veil of misery overcast like charcoal shadows on a pedestal a simmering cup of morning death awaits, still laced with the cold, hard truth a harsh reminder that he would never again feel the warmth of her tender embrace…