Winter

Her potted plants that line the yard,
Seem to extend beyond my vision.
My eyes see things, not near but far,
My nose leads me to her kitchen.

My legs had started to move swiftly,
My ears hear a heartbeat rapid and bold.
My mother stood, with icy green eyes,
But my heart is halt and my body cold.

My feet walk out, for I am a fool.
My mind gave a question to my head,
“How, in this endless winter dry and cool,
Are her potted plants now withered and dead?”