Morning's Chill

The cold floor greets me with a sharp surprise,

a jolt that cuts through the fog of last night’s dreams.

I step lightly, blinking, trying to rise,

with every step feeling the chill’s tight seams.

Shivers race up like memories untold,

wrapped in the blanket of restless refrain.

Morning breaks softly, a promise of gold,

yet the frost wraps around me like whispers of pain.

I linger between warmth and the day’s harsh call,

a moment suspended where shadows convene.

Each breath a reminder, as soft as a thrall,

of the worlds that lie waiting, unseen, evergreen.