woke up from
a long winter’s nap.
icicles hung in my
brain and patchwork
memories clung
like wine stains
on white linen.

cold, so cold.
turned up the heat
but my bruises still
glowed beneath
leafy tufts
of matter
that mattered not.

"grow old with me
the best is yet to be?"
why butter me up
with the silence
of gravity growing
quietly each
and every day?

jumpstart me back
to my long winter’s
nap. at least, there
i can dream
the dreams
of the young
as i ride on cloud
covered glaciers
where no icicles grow.

02/26/2007

Author's Note: It\'s not always easy being me.

Posted on 02/27/2007
Copyright © 2026 Kyle Anne Kish