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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=474182" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Winter Of Discontent</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=474182" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The phone rang a day before Christmas a message I knew would come<br> but would not like to hear. Mother had died and there was a great haste <br>now before the festive season. Yet in my despair I picked up the phone <br>and rang her number in the hope it had all been a dreadful mistake…any <br>minute now she will answer be glad to hear my voice; and she would tell<br>me I’m susceptible to cold and remember to wear a scarf.<br> Fully awake I rushed to the airport, sorry fully booked till after Christmas. <br>“Please if there is a cancellation ring me.” The phone didn’t ring. <br>When I finally got there snow had covered flowers and her name was not <br>yet carved on a stone. This emptiness, this hole in my heart, I knew it had <br>to happen one day, but not now not ever. At her home they were busy <br>dividing her things. No I didn’t want anything only her reading glasses, <br>she had thought me how to read. A life had ended and for the first time in <br>my life I knew how it felt like to be alone under a cold Nordic sky.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a></strong></div>