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Rest for the Weary.

Rest for the Weary.

Time keeps send­ing shiv­ers to me.
Mak­ing me Cold.

Bring­ing back mem­o­ries.

I’d like to feel some warmth,
but all I am is freez­ing these days.

I shiv­er -

Feel soaked-through like Win­ter clothes
brought inside, but left too far from the heater.

My fin­gers ache.

I have a mem­o­ry of morn­ing chores,
and water­ing troughs coat­ed with ice.

I broke the ice,
so dif­fer­ent, then than now,
with red hands,
and sharp intakes of Win­ter air.

Today, the Ice is dark, and the Cold is Bit­ter;
the ache comes from anoth­er place.

Time’s tid­ings, once glad,
now bring forth ill winds
that wrap them­selves in wrin­kles and weath­ered skin.

They remind me of all the days I should have either stayed inside
or put on skin cream.

Of the days when pal­lor was an indi­ca­tion of ill­ness,
instead of a way to avoid it.

These shiv­ers, and this cold, keep com­ing,
but they are in no way wel­come.

I would shun them if I could.

Turn my face away from such sad tid­ings,
and seek some lev­el of com­fort
beyond the march of days.

Time.

It used to fill me with promis­es.

Now it’s only ugly,
and too short.