an old writer and his words

The night slowly encases the citythe river flows on toward the lakebirds shiver in the biting chill,the street light flickers and goes out,the wind whistles around the windows,snow begins to coat the trees’ bare branches,a squirrel looks up forlornly,the traffic light inexorably changes colors,TV’s flicker behind curtained windows,we slide beneath the blankets,sleep comes slowly to…