Sweater

A sad little piece

The cold air flows over me
much like water over rocks.
I grip my mug
pleading for more warmth than it cares to give.
My sweater caresses my frame
trying to suck the cold that has imbedded itself in me.
I raise the cup and decide to put it down.
The air is chilling to the bones.
My favorite spot in the small bundle of trees
next to my home is going to kill me
if I don't leave.
But maybe today that's alright.

Reviews

[B.J]

Very well said. I felt the emotional pull in your writing.