JANUARY BLUES

JANUARY BLUES
Helen Murphy

Dark cold mornings that always confuse my mind
Is it night-time? Is it day-time? I simply can’t tell

Driving to work I see only the orange glow of street lights
nothing else exists than can lighten up my sensibility

I regain consciousness as the frozen air enters my lungs
each breath burns without managing to warm me up

My day is mirrored by the thick fog that refuses to lift
I function sporadically: the day passes slowly

The transition to darkness is unnoticeable
dropping in like a stone, falling from the dreary sky

The wispy cloud covered moon smiles down at me
I slam the door shut on another day, shivering: frost tomorrow.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.