The days are colder now. These late rains make the leaves fall to the ground. Leaves that should have been red brown quickly and die. Dew clings to my windshield, wiped quickly away. Forgotten. The cold clings to my bones, asking to chill my heart and leave me here.
Fetally curled and contorted, the familiar smell of white tea dipped in melon reaches my nose reminding me of the last time it was like this. A time when worry was tomorrow's task and today was for living. A time when sadness was mine but strength was abundant. The tea tastes of my tear-filled memories and I'm glad the can is empty. Those days are over and I'm running forward. But into what? To where? With whom?
The days are colder now. My winter habits awakened. Good books scream desperately to be read and anaylzed. The characters reach to be understood and to be loved. By the end, they've run into their what to their where with their whom. But I'm still here asking the same three unanswerables. My endless "the end" suspended indefinitely.
The days are colder now but I'm still searching for fire.