Enter The Winter Cage

Is this a room or a ward?

Am I at a beginning

Or nestling an ending?

A cosh is close.

I approach to feel for a bell,

I touch a throat on error.

There is no kindling

For a fire.

I need heat to trade.

There is no fuel.

There is no oxygen.

There will be no heat.

I am the only item here

And I crave fire,

So I must still be Alive!

I poke an eye,

It provokes a tear.

At least I have drink.

I am years older and,

Being Drenched in memory

I seek a more splendid cure.

Question. Are the days longer

On this nine mooned planet?

Is my span shortened?

Am I convalescent

In a cube of ice?

Then I can’t be drowned.

I cup breath.

There is still some heat.

I conclude I am sober.

I sit up and seem alert.

Awake but dreamy.

Cognitive and emotional.

Everyone of us

Inhabits this season.

Each is caged.