On a Cold Day in January

a chill in the air,

unexpected cold front from the north.

all I long for when getting home

is a warm bath

to cure the chill in my bones.

many moons before that is mine.

I dream of the day when it is not so

out of reach.

oh how I miss those evenings:

hot water, milky with soapy bubbles,

the soft scent and gentle light of candles,

a tray with a glass of wine and chocolate,

and the best part, the music.

wet hairs at the nape of my neck.

head leaned back, relaxed, with a messy bun atop.

a deep inhale and a long release.

goodbye tension, goodbye stress.

the plants keeping me company transport me

into a jungle of my own design.