First Steps

The cold is here,
and once I again I yearn for longer days,
warmer nights,
from the comfort of my own home.

I long for the glow of a candle,
the pop from a stereo needle,
the soothing burn from a cinnamon tea,
flowing through my insides,
spreading like a welcomed disease. 

Outside there is nothing but scorn.

Cold,
diseased,
death,
coating my bones,
creaking across my body,
and freezing the little bit of Ocytocin left in my brain. 

I am unable to help others,
until I too am helped. 

I rise,
but can't commit. 

God grant me serenity,
to accept the wicked in others hearts,
the courage to face it head on,
and the wisdom to apologize,
when applicable.