she sits
in her grandmothers chair
head in hand
staring placidly out the window
frost is starting to form at the outer edges
and she feels the chill creeping through the glass
so she tightens the afghan, another of her grandmothers
hand me downs, around her
and starts to gently rock back and forth
  staring
into the dreary winter vastness
letting her mind wonder
to simpler times
carefree, uninhibited, happy
   young
no, she thinks, this is not what i had planned
when did it slip from me
when did my dreams dissipate
how can i have let them go so easily
   unknowingly
with a sigh she knows she must accept
her fate
because somehow,
somewhere
she became lost
and she gave up on her dreams
so now, aging,
feeling a slight comfort
being amongst her grandmothers things
she sits
   unsettled
but accepting
accepting the hand she has dealt herself
so many years ago.

I want it but I can't, shouldn't, won't
I need it but it's gone, lost, off
I must have it now but something stops me
Stops me, blocks me, lost me
I am stopped
It is off
Over
Full stop
​

With a whiskey warm face
I hope to conquer cold
But it beat me
And winter took its' toll
So here I shiver
With hot toddy in my hold
Slowly getting drunker
It's chilly
But I feel bold

"I shall write a poem today", says my mind
Though I know, ultimately no verse will be designed
And many a day has gone astray
In wait of a single, inspired rhyme.

"I shall write a story today", claims my brain
Even as I watch my thoughts miss their train
And a screen stark white mocks my plight
While the cursor blinks expectantly in vain.

"Maybe I should take a walk", I surmise
And far above me, in the skies
A troubled bird drops a ****
And inspiration splats between my eyes.

You are too good for me. I realize that now.