Sedentary Motion
Cotton sweaters strangle me
as I unfurl my past, my future,
my existence.
Autumn leaves whisper goodbye to
their swollen tree branches,
falling, falling, falling…
Homemade cinnamon fills the shivering air
and overstays its welcome.
Winter warmly touches my insulated hands
when no one else would.
I am here, sitting at my lonely desk
writing this out...
as the searing memories of a summer gone by
linger
in sedentary motion.
Image: Unsplash
