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Posted by MFish

Cold

Posted by MFish Posted on 01/09/2018 at 11:15PM Poetry See more by MFish

I feel the cold crispness of winter
inside my nose.
Up above, the low hung clouds
reflect the pinkish, orange light
from a hundred street lamps,
marking the boundary way
of the street.
Cars speed by, swirling wind,
about me.
The warmth of my breath
puffs billowy, rhythmically,
as I exhale.
The pounding of my feet,
and occasional dog barking
at my passing, are the only
sounds I hear.
I try not think of the
distant point I'm running to
for if I look and see, it might distract me
from the concentration, that I need,
to attain by goal,
to finish.

Why must I be the way I am?
Feeling guilt about the days,
when I worked and didn't praise
everything you did at home,
taking care of our children, almost alone.
Now we are here, your mind is spent,
no doing the "books" or cooking now.
Unable to function tasks so simple,
It's "My turn," I've said so many times
"to take care of you" as you did I.

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