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It's cold but no rain falls down from the bleak sky
I feel as if my soul hurts on these kind of days
the only remedy is to listen to the slow hesitant notes
played on a plain piano that sits in the parlor of my mind
smelling of rosewood and nostalgic melodies that tickle
at my memory of days that had more sunlight, that
were filled with summer and laughter and iced tea.
If only the rains would come again to drown out the
chills that my own sorrows bring on when I find myself
alone missing people I have never met but still hoping
would be here to haunt me in my small darkened house
so far away from the chaos of modern civilization yet
no more isolated than the crowded rooms fill with
drones texting ghosts in other densely packed spaces.
Their faces emotionless whereas mine is calm save
for the occasional tears that slips away as the words
that I type draw forth a particular pain, a longing to
feel the touch of another's hand on my neck reminding
me that there is still love and compassion in this
long dim day in midwinter. I want take a cup of
English tea, a cube of sugar, as if to kiss the hot water
with sweet reminiscence and sip away this melancholy
that remains at my side as I realize that if only but for
a moment I am now back in my tiny house again.