Fighting the cold

frustrated and angry. i know that i m not getting younger. i am aware that my once black hair are slowly finding more of grey to give them company. it does not get easier. i m waiting for this famine to end. its getting dark and its getting cold and the night seems longer than ever before. my eyes though want to defy this phase and don't fail to look around to spot the odd one out who might want to share my eccentricities.

i m lost in this world. the sidewalk is slippery than before. the slush is thicker than before. the shoulders brushing past me are cold. the gaze is questioning and unwelcoming. even the crowd can't envelope me in its midst and i stand out as the only outsider in a group of regulars. the tongue stammers and halters. and i try to make myself understood in a voice as loud as humanly possible and in an accent as neutral as possible.  the walks are long. but the sights are soothing. my heels hurt from so much walking but i dont want to stop lest the stillness gets to me.

sometimes the only way to get forward is to keep walking. to keep fighting the cold and numbing out the areas that pain and hurt. i can't wait for Godot.