Cold Spring

I've seen dreams of winter's end, soil naked grey shadows of sun.
 Dead birds on the blackened snow.
 Awaiting something really dark
 Mist and wet spring wind are my only companions in twilight
 They are always with me when the last snow dies
 Only a few windows are enlightened
 What am I searching for among these archaic black ghost like houses?
 Dreams never give answers, only after taste...
 But effaced keys in my hand,
 Old stairs squeak, in dull light, at the round table.
 Shadows of those, who gave me
 My only companions
 Mist and wet spring wind.