Cold
I’m feeling cold
Feel it in my bones, cold
Feel it where my clothes fold
Against my old skin
And Bill’s doing worse
You should see him
In the morning
When the air becomes thin
Like the parchment paper
That covers his structure
Revealing his inner most secrets
And stature is something dissolved
With a pitying grin
And a glance from a stranger
Much warmer than him
Thoughts
When I was building guitars I would lose feeling in my fingers when doing the fretwork. This heater promised much but delivered little.
© John Monaghan 2025. All Rights Reserved
