Winter, Fog, Glory…

I often sit and reminisce about home. I picture the low settled fog across the distance as I walked over the bridge to get to work. The feel of the cold air hitting my face when taking the first step out of my front door. The coat of which I so snugly fitted in to. My hands without cover trying to squeeze into pointless small pockets to find a touch of warmth.

It’s winter. The street lights still on whilst that one which always seems to flicker down the street as if it’s crying out for that added attention. I know, it’s still early. The moon is still making an appearance slightly faded in the morning sky. The frost is prominent as I look down at the concrete pavement of the road. White speckles glimmer in the lamp lights. Cars wearing a film of silver with pretty frozen patterned windows with no room to see. A bin, still left out from Tuesday’s collection. The trees still and calm in the moment of dawn. The few leafs left from autumns departure now white and colourless.

I see the sun. Trying to show the city it’s on time but a little subdued by the low hanging clouds. They want the glory this morning. It’s there’s and they’re not sharing. Not yet. My feet are numb, I’m making steps but they’ve already given up on the blood circulation that’s pushing to reaching them. The 2 pairs of socks are trying there best to hold in the heat with little success. My ears and nose are the worse. Without a hat or scarf they scream to me as if it’s a blame I should take upon myself. Maybe they’re right.

Early morning workgoers are driving past at speed, the carriageway offers a straight road into town. Frost melted from their windows with full sight of the outside world. The birds still sing. They are always happy. My body now hot contridicts what my face and feet are telling me. A few minutes away from a warm office, hot tea and comfort of my desk chair.

Taking those last steps over the frozen grass crunching under my boots. My breath blowing clouds as the warmth of my mouth meets the cold morning air. The music playing through my earphones gives my brain alternative thoughts from the British winter as I finally step inside the door.


One thought on “Winter, Fog, Glory…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s