The Reaper Winter Sunset The complexion, nature couldn’t do any better. It is a dream to every commuter men. Appreciation manifests upon their faces As they shovel and trowel in competition And hope you bring against their exhaustion That a cup burning of hot coffee and tea, As the wood struggles in ash and coal production, Shall sooth their dry icing skin of rubber. I could not move away, Move away from the comfort, of thy rays While they marked a terrible night of freezing As they partially satisfied my skin, My mind fantasized as I watched thy beauty. What if I could fly and run the tips of my fingers? So as to raise the speed of thy furnace! And fascinate my muscle cover in warmth. A cry of agony I heard form above. The poor bird was saying its prayers Protesting and procrastinating as it did. A glimpse through nets of drying leaves I could see, a posture like a statue Shivering it couldn’t, it was deep in thought For the sight of your face implied; Another task added for tomorrow To today’s mission unaccomplished.