Winter has 

come into my

life and dressing

is a task.

I never ask do I look

like the kids?

I just hope I can

still fit into the

rags.

Oh and my painter

paints

confuse people

I never buy them

new. They are always

second hand jeans

that are 16's.

My eyes cloud

at the

least things these 

days. War, inhumanity,

and that old man that

can't make it back.

Winter is hard on my

birthdays also

it seems the world stops

doing things when I get 

there. Winter makes me

walk and sometimes

I talk to myself.

Spilling soup or

refusing food with 

starches. I just found

how much I love

Maya Angelou and

how right she gets

it. Winter has taken

the women in my family.

The heads that made us

all adults while

sitting in a summer

sun. Yes, winter has

taken me to a new

level. A new hope

that I too might learn

God's lesson

upon this 

life.