posted on Dec, 27 2015 @ 05:59 PM
My blue funk continues.
The tree branches looked like veins
against the overcast flesh of the clouds.
Two days out from Christmas,
the joy all gone, he sat staring...
Staring at the cars of strangers passing by.
His window like a magnifying glass
exposed their flat profiles,
like cardboard cutouts.
The entire neighborhood was cast in grey,
each house dulled by the absence of sun.
Some still carried the lights and decorations
that only lit up the night.
He had avoided listening to holiday songs
because he didn't want to feel the sadness.
Words that once stirred his heart
were kept out, avoided and ignored.
He had put up no tinsel or tree.
There was no smell of pine
nor candles burning,
just incandescent light.
Each room bathed in pale yellow,
images blurred by the wax,
like objects found in museums,
they stood still gathering dust.
Barely alive he waited for the new year
would he make it?
Would it bring hope and good cheer?
Or was he writing this with no rhyme and no reason?
Just four more days...