In The Middle Of The Night, Alone, Shall You Drink...

the cold days are here
the house of glass is misty
the roof is ready for ice crystals
the floors are growing molds
the tiles on the toilet
are propagating
mildew
you sleep all day
dreaming of summer
when you wake up
it is dark
you listen to the the stillness
of the walls
outside the leaves are so quiet
alone again
you drink
more glasses a little salty
as the wine
is mixed with tears

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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