The Mist’s Door

A mist descended today,
a low lying cloud.
Cold — rainy — sad.
Struggling to wake up, to shed this grogginess that I feel.
Eyes are puffy. Heart is puffy. Feeling the weight of the atmosphere upon me.
Breathing is heavy and slow.
This kind of day is a closed door — locked — the key thrown away.

copyright 2015 Frances Ann Osborne