Tower

The world around me marches on,
while I wait patiently in my tower.
One from which I can observe,
but never join in.

I see the curve of children's lips,
expressing that they are happy.
I wish I could embrace the laughter,
as easily as they seem to do.

My tower is dark and cold,
yet I try to bring joy to it.
A fire crackles gently in my fireplace,
and I take in the warm flames.

Now the snow is falling in blankets,
and I curl into a ball on my bed.
Tomorrow is my birthday,
perhaps I'll be free by then.

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