“COLD”

Huddled over my keyboard wrapped in a throw,

Rufuz out on his leash playing in the snow,

We seem to be opposites the older I go.

Money to tight to buy propane,

So must run the heater sparingly,

Electric heaters the way to go,

But if run together, the fuses they blow.

But there’s one place I am toasty & warm,

Under my comforter, in bed is now my norm,

Can watch TV or read a book,

Write poetry or out the window I look.

But don’t get me wrong,

I am not complaining or am I unhappy,

Just a bit chilled & shakin’,

If this is what it feels to be a frozen meal,

Looking forward to the first snow,

Wouldn’t have given me so much zeal,

Maybe in my next life I’ll be a seal,

As the cold will then have an appeal…

                    (“frosty” ed)