Broken Comfort

A silent morning,

still and frozen.

November eyes

hold up the latter half

of a long year

and I

find broken comfort

in the moment.

 

Try as I might,

I can’t fumble my way

through the time change.

Falling back

used to be so easy.

 

Dark in the morning.

Dark in the evening.

Darling now,

but we will start to lose

all our pretty adjectives soon

and all we’ll be left with

in the truth.

 

The leaves are gone,

the snow is on the ground

and everything is planned

around the coming holidays.

With the year

still drying on the page,

we’re finding little pieces

of broken comfort

everywhere.

 

I hope I have another winter in me.

Another joyous time to play,

another toast

to frozen mornings,

as the world slowly turns to life.

I don’t’ regret my past behind me,

but I wouldn’t do it again.

All things pass

for a reason

and nothing lasts.

 

I hold my warm cup of coffee to me,

not all comforts are broken, it seems.

However brief,

the moment will suffice;

like lattice frost

is gone by afternoon.

November mornings;

deep cold,

but regretless.

 

HG – 2017