It’s late
Rain splashes
Against the pane
A haunting sound
In this darkened night
The wind, nonexistent
Yet it rattles the glass
Upon which I rest my face
Cold seeps in, relentless
To my already aching bones
The fire, crackling,
Hissing, next to me
Offers no warmth
Reluctant to move
From the window
I sit, shivering
And watch
As my tears
Roll by

 

©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0