choices

through pale ivory days my attention has paid.
now i wish them to hurry and melt back to jade,
and it couldn't happen too soon.
the agony of knowing that warmth is so far
is like the annoying door ajar buzzer in my car
that never ceases its spiteful tune.
the northern gales that drift away the past
have a knack for allowing the cold to last,
removing from sight the sun and moon.
shall i weep in disgust
while my car fades in rust?
or shall i shut the hell up and move south until june?
its hard for me to choose...