when i return,
in from the cold
i see myself in the mirror facing the door
and i see my shoes lined up
neatly against the wall

in from the cold
and my thoughts absorbed
around a cup of hot chocolate
i will make, i know best what I like
and the aroma is my company

i would feed my fish
but i ve already fed it
i would go for a walk but it's dark
and i would clean the house
but it's spotless

in from the cold
my nose is sniffling
the wretched cold

in from the cold,
i still feel the wind
in my skin, flesh and bone
and a flannel blanket wraps around my legs
hot chocolate is soothing the pain

and i am in from the cold
another quiet night here in my den
sounds from the distant box
and as i drift out of conciousness
i am really in from the cold