Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.217.218.162

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

Outside...

The cold rain is why my old hat
feels plastered upon my head,
and why the street has a gray look,
as if the neighborhood is dead.
It’s why I can see every exhale,
why there is a hard chill on my sin,
which seems to seep down to my bones
and take up residence within.
It’s why I am now shivering,
and why my shoes are soaking wet,
why I wish I’d worn a jacket,
this fleece was a really bad bet.
It’s why the day is so dreary,
seems to sap all vitality,
November destroys everything,
grim month of mortality.
I’d rather this rain be snowfall,
painting all in muted white,
at least then you could ski in it
and live up the wintry life.
This rain will freeze, gum up my car
when the mercury drops at dusk,
thankfully this was a short walk
’cause I’ve already had enough.

Inside…

The cold rain is why flames now roar
within my big brick fireplace,
why I feel the wafting heat
warming the skin on my face.
It’s why I’ve got this highball glass
half-filled with the spice of Rye,
makes the stomach a furnace,
a nice glow suffuses inside.
It’s why I hear a rhythm pound,
soothing patterns on metal roof,
and why I sit back in this chair
so comfortably aloof.
It’s why my dog lays on my feet,
Fido knew that I was cold,
that mutt does the job better
than any slippers ever sold.
The rain is why I’ll go with stew
instead of something light and trendy,
and it makes me glad my wife bough
our small, indoor Jacuzzi.
I suppose you can’t feel this comfort
if displeasure is never had,
one appreciates the other,
all this cold rain ain’t that bad.

…seen through a window, at least.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required