Day 6

Winter

 I grow old as I sit; I wait out the cold,
Counting the hours like snowflakes.
Each unique, untouched, untold,
Why am I wary, the canvas is blank?
Trapped behind a window pane,
Thoughts in mind flow back and forth;
I wish to seek my purpose, in vain,
Knowing my time on earth is short.
So why do I worry they ask?
Why is my soul in a hurry to grow?
I sit inside, behind the glass,
Wondering if, I, will ever know.
As insecurity plays her symphony,
I fear my fate is fading to history.

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