Out off the blocks,
trembling forward.
The grace robbed
by the memory.
The mind inspired,
alert
to repetition,
stretching, exercising,
conspiracy.
The force of the road –
pulsating,
the joints warn,
send signals
of doubt,
perhaps shame.
They wanted to be
but couldn’t,
at least not
anymore.
The snowfall
unexpected, yet
not surprising:
there was a hint
at this,
even forecasted.
But the heavy flakes
stain the scene
allowing a litter,
confetti curtain,
A Monday morning’s
company.
©TheHairyTeacher2013