As icy rain falls and clouds collide
Visibility disappears in the frozen fog
Temperatures, now negative on the Farmer’s log….
Depression’s chill seeps deep inside
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Deep blanketed coverings warm my body well
Darjeeling steeped to the third degree
A smile, priceless, when once so free
Nothing warms this mad winter spell
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With bleak eyed, blank-walled stare
my IQ is suspended as I “rain on my own parade.”
Zombie like, a death walk through the shadow glade
and my armor of cheer, stripped bare.
Picture by: favim.com
