the cold rain kisses my cheeks as I come to
the car
chill
fingers fumbling with the key
I cannot inject into the locks
cold yet not cold enough to freeze
we face too many choices but none so stark
as life
and death
more like
out-of-season gnats
nipping at
fingers and toes
that saps the consciousness and drains me
for when
the serious issues come
this
change of season
this mood
of death
is hope
for rebirth coming
as the
world arrives at its darkest hour
and we
shiver through it all
a
stumbling mass of petty confusion
we cannot
escape
aching for
the clear choices
the
definite division between
good or
evil
right or
wrong
happy or sad
but that's
not real life
it is always things in between
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