Four AM again
by lxvia
· 21/01/2026
Published 21/01/2026 18:27
Four AM, again.
The plow scrapes by,
a metallic scream on asphalt.
Another gray dawn breaks
behind the window pane.
Yellow lights spin, sickly,
reflecting off the wet, dark street.
Slush, not snow, just pushed aside,
a dirty, frozen spray.
It's been weeks of this.
The damp chill seeps in,
right into the bone.
Never leaves.
Just stays.