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.