winter
small lives main act
when I look down the hill,
i see the little lights of the houses,
and I think,
do they all have these struggles and thoughts?
are they lonely?
do we all suffer?
or is it just me?
am I weak? why do I cry so much?
do they cry?
later, I walk down the street, left and right houses and houses.
I stop in front of one. the brown one, with the little red nosed reindeer in front; snow lies on his head.
through the window, I see a woman crying, alone. she is holding a tissue in her left fist.
tears run down her cheeks.
a man comes in and takes her in his arms.
she cries harder, but then, suddenly, she stops and just closes her eyes.
I don't know how long I stood there.
when the rain started my cheeks were already wet.
YOU ARE READING
4 seasons of me
PoetryOthers write only the good, others only the bad...this is the place for those who felt both. Who loved and hated. A Journey, through a year of my Life. Winter (lonely). Spring (finding). Summer (love). Fall (losing). One year. Four seasons. One...
