Sunday, September 30, 2007


Winter’s coming-
I can feel it
In my skin, my bones, my world,
The dark hazy shapes in the distance
Like monsters threatening my existence.
Men walk along the road
Kicking up dust in every step,
Their mouths parched
Their eyes hard
Cursing through their cracked lips.
Nature feels it too-
Waiting with silent trepidation
For winter to strip it off its leaves
It fights a battle
To give me-
My patch of gold on my bed.
The afternoons are long
Reading books
With my back to the sun.
Huddled figures
Clad in rags
Inches closer to the fire
Their eyes….
Speaking more than words
Tales of their lives of dire.
The world for me
Is closed a room
With a cloud of smoke
Near my window
It’s those roaring monsters
Puffing away
Choking me
My eyes burning, my throat drying
But they say-
It’s just winter coming.

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