cold seeps into extremities
reminding me once again
that i'm getting older &
more intimate with frailty.
slowly but surely-
becoming the reaping of
my younger selves' sowing.
here i retreat inward
to find the soul
for the world outside
has lost its gold
that was never there.
fear fuels my nightmares
but i'm told to stay scrambling
for the light within my dreams
and the threads painted by love
to weave anew.
but the skeins stay drab
and the pastels tangled.
however will i continue
with my thoughts all mangled?