I trudged away from the elevator
sleepily
and did not expect the sound of wind chimes
when the tirade of December wind confronted me

the sound tingled its way
down my spine
then triggered a memory
of a story once read
that produces wistful sentiments
and an appreciation of words

Still the wind permeates and invades me
to this day it aches where the chill lingered
Feathers do not protect me
and the air had still blown harsh kisses on my cheeks

Stillness suffused by darkness
interrupted only by warm lights from kitchen windows
where families sat gathered,
perhaps

And across the way inside a glass door
The actions of an old lady mimic mine
(she was dressed in blue against stark white)
The simple languid movements
The utter apathy toward life
Except for the act of waiting

Disheveled, ashamed,
hapless, blank, aimless
waiting in the One Moment Frozen in Time