Old

Wind and rain,
Not a vision but a sound,
The former howling,
Finding a gap in the patially rotted window frame,
The rain tapping relentless on the window,
Outside is dark,
Shown in part by the broken pole,
Curtains misaligned,
No longer hiding the night,
Wood for the fire long gone,
Dying embers a subdued orange against the eternal darkness,
There is no longer heat,
Wrapped in a hole filled aged blanket,
My body uncontrollably shivers,
Too cold to sleep,
Yet I ponder if I’ll see the morrow arrive.
If I actually want to.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

2 thoughts on “Old

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s