Shades of Winter It’s funny how the winter came, and went, with autumn colours flowing from your eyes, as if your tears reflected summers spent in mellowing before the darkening skies. Now spring subverts the sleeping earth’s intent. Too soon the promise, and too late the blame, for what we said, but barely ever meant. It makes me wonder why we never came to realise fragility, and what it means when two are one, both fighting off the dust that threatens us – our somehow might-have-beens, which dance us to the end of simple trust.     Those colours in your eyes run on and on.      It’s funny how this winter’s come, and almost gone. John Bevan If you've any comment on this poem, John Bevan would like to hear it.