I must remind myself daily
that it is not me.
The clouds sit heavily
filling the deep valley.
There is no wind to fill my sails.
every effort to move on is doomed to fail.
I sit and ponder and sometimes wail.
My spirit locked in by clouds like the tightest jail.
I am in the dull doldrums, so it seems.
Sun hides in mourning as I try to dream
of gardens and beaches… such light-filled themes.
Ohio winters’ dull doldrums make me scream.
annarino writes 