typewriter and tea cup
I can feel the approaching winter 
behind the glass and curtains
waiting to freeze me
down to the bones

I only have this cup of tea
and thin veil of fabric
between me and it
and it's barely enough

There's nothing to do though
but pass the long dark of night
and wake for warmth
of the next day and the next
with kettle near constant boil
and my cup at the ready
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