Any other time of year-
I look outside for an escape, to escape.
Not today, the cold it seems has expanded from inside me to out.
Desolate, sad, and the anti-hope.
There is no relief.
I seek release.
Instead, I’ll run my pen over the paper yet another time.
Perspective can change anything.
Behind the bars, trapped on the inside but protected for the cold.
Beautiful either way.
Soft white drift towards you,
Bleak yet beyond beautiful,
Find the hint of spring.
In the early morning cold,
My thoughts are rapid,