First Steps

Cold floor bites as I rise from the bed,

a jolt to the senses, breaking the thread.

Wrapped in the chill, a world cloaked in frost,

each breath is a cloud, each moment embossed.

Slippers sit waiting, too far from my reach,

they beckon with warmth, a soft, tender speech.

Yet still I linger, feeling the floor,

where shadows of dreams scatter out from the door.

The day yawns awake, yet I hesitate still,

a battle of comfort versus the world’s will.

With each breath I take, the weight starts to climb,

my heart wrestles softly with the clock's quiet chime.