by Connie Jarka

Green fields amidst sunny days
Will they come again;?
We gaze out over winters icy haze,And sometimes wonders, if ever? some days,
     or when.

Believing comes in handy, one then whispers
This too might be much bigger then me;
But with one step at a time,
Letting it fall back in line,
Believing the ice will melt
We take what we are dealt,
And accept what we can foresee.
 as we go.