PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 Cold air filters through the window.
My limbs are shaking.
From the cold or the mind,
I can't say for sure.
Somewhere down the street
a cat is crying.
Its mournful notes a
broken drum to the ear.
Opening the balcony door,
I step outside.
Glare from my fifth floor apartment
at the other windows curtained
against me.
Who is standing behind those curtains?
Who is looking through a shiver of space
back at me?
Warm as zero I pull out a cigarette,
light it and shove it in my lips.
The smoke enters my lungs,
I like it.
I ignore the no smoking signs
that are shoved like rice
into my face.
I'm aware of a slight wind
wrapping itself around the
snow on the ground.
I'm going to stand here
until the snow melts.