To Brave the Cold

Looking out a window at the snow covered ground,
I ponder if it's worth stepping outside today.
How I'd rather grab some coffee and a book,
Snuggle up next to the warm stove.

Responsibility overrules the stalling,
My feet comfortably toasty in slippers.
"Alright" I grumble to myself,
As I sigh dramatically to no one in particular.

I first grab the necessary layers needed,
Five layers to be exact, to risk the cold.
I stand there staring at the extra clothes,
"Why am I doing this?" I think, yet again.

"Right, responsibility" I mumble in halfheartedness.
I quickly put on the first layer, as teeth chatter.
The second layer seems a bit easier,
The third layer is a bit more stiff.

By the time I get the fourth layer on,
I start to understand the Tin Man a bit.
The inability to move my extremities,
I start to question the need for a fifth layer.

Never the less! I surely will need it,
Putting on five layers, the struggle is real.
I am now sweating and questioning my sanity,
Feeling the need to abandon ship, like; NOW!

Oh no, I forgot the hat, and the gloves,
How am I going to get those on now?
Using yoga poses not yet done before,
As well as teeth and more grumbling.

I now look as if I'm ready for battle,
I dare say I could even stop a bullet.
Walking as though my joints have rusted,
I finally brave the outdoors.

My face feels the immediate burn,
Cold; how cruel you are.
Only fire should feel like burning,
Yet you bite and burn just the same.

As quickly as my body is able,
I do what needs done and tending.
Waddling like a penguin as I think,
"How much longer till spring?"


I make my way back inside to warmth,
Shedding each layer after layer.
They make a nice pile on the floor,
As I sip my coffee and read, ignoring the mess.

Cold; you are better seen than felt.
More beautiful outside, seen through glass.
You are a funny thing indeed,
I think my infatuation of you has finally faded.



Copyright 2017 Lauren Hall ©

Lost in Thought

Gazing at the deep blue green.
Reflected off iridescent scene.
Imagining the greater sphere.
As light dances over the tier.

I want to make this image,
Bigger than any lineage.
Thoughts are but a stream,
I question if I can dream.

Imagination has now begun,
Building on whats been spun.
Giving life to a mere thought,
Though the images are untaught.

Floating on a tiny thread,
I think it's all gainsaid.
I care not to what most say,
It's not out there on display.

In a trance of my own,
Not one can make clone.
These ideas are but mine,
Not for all thee and thine.

Conjuring up the unseen,
Hallucination my routine.
Staring at this iridescent fantasy,
I throw my cares out to sea.

Stock still she sits in gaze,
One might think in daze.
The inner workings grind,
The delusion of her mind.

For how long she's there,
No one says or will ever dare.
Call out to her in such,
Wake her with a touch.  



Copyright 2017 Lauren Hall ©

Time is My Teacher

I've heard said by few,
Let go, it'll come back.
How unfair those words seem,
When they lie to you and me.

Life once already lived,
Is forever etched in past.
No more can the trees,
Bloom once blooms are gone.

Tell me again this fate,
You say we all will share.
This fate seems to escape,
The likes such as I.

Time is a thief and crook,
I've thought over and over again.
Stealing life and love and laughter,
Snatching it away before I even begin.

Although I am losing now,
The time ought better spent.
I stopped here to share,
These passing memories of mine.

I might have lost to time,
But I still have more left.
How careless of me in past,
To waste on creatures such as;

Vain spectacles of human form,
Seeking naught but frivolous acts.
Self absorbed, Self seeking, Selfish,
Are these creatures of common form.

I refuse to be led in such,
Common display of array.
The insanity some call beauty,
Merely flaunts but a shell.

Time is being spent wastefully,
Cast aside on a whim.
 No thought given to why,
This shell is slowly dimming.

Time is no thief and crook,
Carelessly taking from me.
Time is my quiet teacher,
Telling me to learn;

Learn from whats happened,
Step beyond the history.
I will no longer waste,
The gift time has offered.

Time has offered itself,
To learn from past mistakes.
Reach beyond what has been,
Look forward to what can be.



Copyright 2017 Lauren Hall ©