The Cold of Morning

Days have passed since I wrote,
My spirit has been left broke,
I drift on through each day,
In a sad and lonely way.

Though I am content with life,
I pay such a high price,
For this beauty that surrounds me,
Of mountains and green tree's.

As the days pass I wonder,
How long before I go under?
For the fog in my mind,
Leaves an emptiness behind.

Although my love is dear,
It is myself that I fear,
For old age begins to near,
Yet low is my only gear.