Winter Sounds The Same (Poem)

In the early morning of winter’s approach

I feel the cold singing in my bones

An old song that I heard when I was young

In the rooms where elderly relatives gathered

Easing themselves slowly into creaking chairs

Resting their hands on knobby canes

Warming themselves by the crackling fire

I sat in their front on the bare pine floor

The wind rattled the window panes and shook the door

Trying to gain attention but no one gave any mind

The freeze was already evident on the ground

Its notes played out in every step they took

In every movement I now make