Green In The Winter.

 

the wind whistles

through the gap between

the window and the pane,

tickling my face

as i lay, head heavy on the pillow

watching the sun rise.

 

the tree outside,

green in the winter,

taps on the glass

almost as if to remind me

that i can’t stay in bed

once the day begins.

 

the kettle down the hallway

is awaiting,

as i stretch off my slumber

and rub sleep from my eyes

wishing i had someone

to share these moments with.

 

if only you were here

but you’re nothing but a wish,

and the sunlight

filters across these empty sheets

in ways

that make my heart break.

 

i keep my distance from you

even though it boils inside me

screaming like the kettle,

as i wake up

to another day

without you here.

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