Winter morning

There something about a cold

Blustery, early winter's morning,

Leaves chased down the road

Or glued like broken promises

To the footpath.

That memory of the cold,

The dark, the nights spent

Roaming dark bluestone

Streets alone, seeking out

Kindness and not finding it

Within, for that is the

Only place it ever was,

Hidden, lost, silenced

Under the frozen wave

Of a world that would

See life lived through

What I buy, how I look

Who I choose to adulate.

Life is easier now, the

Love lost has been

Found, in myself, in this

Place, in a woman.

It asks nothing of me

Than everything I am

And am becoming.