These stunted days, these freezing nights
compress my thoughts
The year’s impending ending
forces me into reflecting
Winter lets breed a fear in me
fear for the furry little lives
fear for the torn out pages
And so, for warmth, I write…
These forgettable phrases form
These liable little lines laid out
These humble homeless honesties
These intangible inky inches
The outside world is shrunken and cold
all the best times are defined by people
and who was there, it reflects exactly
how deeply those memories carry
Curtains closing for the final time today
fearing the endless chill of white
I’ve got all the things I badly needed
and trapped indoors, so much to write
All I know to do
is to give thanks
for all that came my way
These woozy words warmly whispered
These spidery sentences slowly spun
These drunken dark descriptions detailed
These nosy noisy nothings noted
All thoughts are forced into a verse
by the impending ending of a year…
[2010]
Thanks for reading this old poem.
The Lighthouse 