Uphill

On a cold winter’s morning,

I’m wishing I was home in bed,

warmed up by the fire,

my love’s arm wrapped round my middle.

Just dozing away the day.

But no.

I’m trudging up the hill, my

slippery slope.

My beast of burden.

The textbooks are holding me back.

All fireplace imaginings disappear

and now I just want crampons.

All of a sudden,

I loose my footing and slide back to go.

On the other hand,

maybe I will just go back to bed.