The temperature boasts tepid
a most exciting adjunct to this new year,
the weather in Scotland seems the only warm front.
Traditional thoughts could not promulgate a more bitter frost.
There is a mirror to capture my exterior,
to cast the length of my frame,
anew and ripened for Springs arrival.
Though, my complexion argues,
its likeness barren.
Worn from winds of a previous locale.
January's mistress emits ennui.
A sexual storm has calmed, only a light snow lingers,
but the task at hand reflects a thin veneer,
a cerebral black ice.
This proves to be yet another desire to just slip my mind.
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