sequestered until the equinox
inevitable like astronomical winter
there is no stopping the fall of december
or the rise of the new year
now that the sun is at its least powerful
you imagine what will keep you warmer
hot chocolate or kentucky whiskey
an old quilt and quiet reminiscing
you wonder where everyone’s gone
when or if they’ll ever return
leading you to recall old photographs
stashed away in cardboard boxes
in the back of your mind you take your time
and flip through each and every one
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
This one hurts in a good way. It’s the widow in me. Sigh
yes there is a fine line between being lonely and being alone
It’s a paradox that baffles me to no end. I enjoy my own company but miss connection on a deeper level,