This winter, I look forward like I hadn’t ever
before.
Sweet Autumn, forgive me this; an urgency has
arisen.
The packed space - just too hot to bear;
and the lethargy drives me nuts.
Is it me? I ask myself; and the answer’s far
out of reach.
Morning breaks with rays of hope; yet when it’s
time, I dread it so.
Not Autumn, surely you’ve been kind; as
always and now, but it’s hot.
Terribly so I confess; seasons no bar, except
winter.
The long days, the longer months, and the
short nights my only time.
How eerie! Strangers’ eyes on me, as I talk
about them and me. 
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