An hour before the sleep

It’s an awfully cold winter. I am shivering- in my skin and bones- I think I almost heard the crack. There’s no sun. It is foggy. And yet it not looks beautiful. The surroundings. I see muddy roads. I have to clear my throat every time I walk. Breathing is a problem. I am petrified to breathe in. It is Christmas tomorrow, but so unlike it. I do not see a lot of red and green. It’s a very different shade of grey today. So, I thought I would add red in my vegetables-carrots, capsicum and peas. That looks beautiful. This tiny abode is my own. It has marks of my laughter, happiness and my fears. We all guard our fears don’t we? And pretend. Happiness is an overcoat. I chase it like everybody that exists around. I prefer walking because I am chasing happiness when I do so. He calls. Like he does always. But we both are cold. We both are occupied. We will see to it. A gush of air on my ears. That’s where the cold hurts the must. I check the windows. The light of the lamp is my calm. It puts me down to sleep. Christmas tomorrow. Wear something red, I tell myself!

-----lily blossoms