Dry (a poem)

It’s winter again,
it’s snowing outside,
and my soul is as dry
as my hands.

A frozen wasteland,
no less of a desert.
My heart is parched
like the sands.

I’m needing a drink,
a refreshing break
from relationships
I must amend.

Time makes me think,
as I slowly move on,
from friendships left
‘round the bend.

I’m looking for ways
to acclimate
to the weather
we currently have.

Searching for shelter
amidst the storm
and someone
to act as a salve.

Springtime will come,
and with it new growth,
where beautiful
blossoms will thrive.

For now I will sit
in dry discontent,
while doing my best
to survive.

~ elr