Though my faintly steaming mug,
Is a welcome friend, to hug
Close to me;
To absorb its heat, I think
Leaves an apathetic drink:
Tepid tea.
Through a window rimed with frost,
I reflect on what is lost,
Bittersweet...
And consider what it takes,
To relieve my body's aches,
Without heat.
It may seem so very strange,
That a sudden weather change,
Causes pains.
Still I don't think it's hormones,
If I feel it in my bones,
When it rains.
Wicked ravages of time.
Make me sensitive to clime,
As it wafts
Where I used to have my hair.
There's a bald patch, sitting there,
Sensing draughts.
As I hear the nightwind's cry,
Seek the moon's face in the sky,
And its glow;
It grows harder to be old,
In the deepest winter's cold,
And the snow.
Mick McKellar
March 2019
As I get older, winter grows colder...
Mick
2 comments:
Praise the Lord you have that warm cup of tea; and heat in your teepee. Peace to you and me.
Thank you!
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