I’ve worn my blankets to the threads.
Is that why I’m so cold?
Or do I sense the dread of dreads,
Now that I’m getting old?
No matter which; the thing to do
Is buy another one,
But, since my life is almost through,
I’ll soon be needing none.
And so I shiver all night long
And, likewise, all the day.
It isn’t that I think it’s wrong;
It’s just my foolish way.
Besides, it’s not as if I miss
The “warmth” of Morpheus’s kiss.
Photo by Amisha Nakhwa on Unsplash
