Wednesday, 8 December 2010

As Winter Yawns

Oh winter.
Why do you treat me the way you do.
The hew of the wind chisels, numbing my finger tips.
To fray in anger seems obsolete, clenching my fists to only feel pain,
My eyes water.
Nostrils widen in defence and as it drips in defeat.
I sigh, starting the mundane.
The beep entry of the oyster,
Common walk down the stairs.
The announcements I seldom hear as my music plays.
The ever conscious individuals, who question themselves like I do,
Who live exciting, sad or secret lives.
Who dress to impress even if winter disagrees, who live for the sake of living and who lives to please.
The roughness of the journey,
we are but dummies controlled in another’s hand for 40 odd minutes, how quiet would we be if he sleeps.
This 40 minutes of warmth away from winter.
Eyes that open in frustration wishing for that extra hour.
The long walk upstairs,
The barge from those with no manners.
The music that still plays.
The rush of many, yet time moves at its standard pace,
Hearts race, healthy fear lives even though common sense supersedes.
Yet, we pay no mind.
The music still plays
Eyes understanding stories without mouths opening.
I see sadness as winter yawns.
The fa├žade held by many
The mask worn
The woman I miss
The love that’s felt

Oh winter.
My eyes water.
I sigh, starting the mundane.

Why do you treat me the way you do.

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