Ode to Woolen Sox

Hello, Woolen Sox, my old friend,
I crave your fuzzy warmth again.
With weather cold and growing bitter,
The sky is filled with season’s glitter.

My toes blacken in my shoes
in those wretched stretched out cotton crews…
cold that leaves my soles
frozen-blue and icy-cold.
Leaving soles so frozen. I feel so old.

Those icy words stuck in my head;
symbols leaving me mislead.
Have had to resort to use of emojis
to help express my expanding dread.

Frost grows in my brain’s far reaches
where linger my long ago golden dreams
of blistering sun-drenched beaches;

of sand so warm the horizons melt,
now a shimmering warmth
only my imagination has felt.

The sun never shines here
in my room so filled
with icy gloom.
Here all my soles lie frozen.