March Weather
The sun was out today
But the wind whittled its way
Through the clothes where I hide
Leaving me cold on the inside
Of the bones
That carry me home
Shivering towards the nest
Searching for warmth search me for rest
In the room
blankets to spoon
Nuzzle them in towards a downy slumber
My place at last to saw logs into lumber
Down into a dream
Woven with who it might seam
Building frames together
Not thinking much beyond March weather
You have a way of drawing the reader into your world.
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