Tuesday, January 3rd,2006. Poem by Sarai Girma

A bleak, grey winter day
Fades to cold and black.
Storm-clouds hang in a
Starless sky, and
No one’s out tonight
By choice.
The breath hangs from your
Lips, hangs in the air, and
Mingles with the smoke
From your chimney and the
Exhaust from your
SUV, and it’s all the same
Ugly grey as
Everything else.
You crunch through
The dirty snow to avoid
The ice. But
It’s all the same and
You fall anyway.
But that’s okay.
The cold has made you
numb.
You almost wish it hurt…
But not really.