Awakening in Winter

The floor is ice, sharp against my skin,

I stumble out, feeling where dreams have been.

Fingers still cling to warmth of the bed,

but the chill cuts deep, a jolt in my head.

This autumn morning, a waking fright,

a slice of cold gnaws at the fading night.

Every step’s a reminder, stark and bold,

of mornings I dread, when the world feels cold.