it’s difficult to write a new poem
it is winter and my heart begins to warm my soul
when the world around you
has suddenly changed
for you see
as much as you’d like to believe
nobody is in charge here
in fact everything is out of control
if only the morning
would arrive one last time
and I could see
everything happening
outside the kitchen window
december two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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