Light BoxA Poem by John Alexander McFadyenI don't believe in SAD being cured by a light box!Light Box I'm feeling blue, after all winter has us in her clutches. Her wild, windy hair, ice cold breath and frosted fingers drives us indoors to shelter from the bitter onslaught.
When we dare emerge we are swathed in thick Icelandic pullovers, overcoats, long trousers, hats, hoods and boots; head to toe protection.
There is little skin left exposed with which to capture the rays that warm us to our very core.
That bronzing solar power that makes our souls glow is in abeyance for now.
The streets are empty, no neighbours tending lawns, washing windows or waxing cars. No one standing in idle gossip sharing narrow , parochial street-views upon last nights tweets.
The air is filled with coughs and sneezes. No dalliances in the park laying on lush green grass watching the world pass idly by, or walks by the ocean, skimming stones, dry sand dripping in warm, soft, gritty cascades between our toes.
Even pretty girls hide their charms beneath jumpers, hats and scarves, awaiting spring days, so they may peel away this frozen inhibition and let their breasts fall free again.
So yes I am blue, sad really, and no bright-light therapy will provide relief, for only a change of seasons will do that for me.
16/01/17 © 2017 John Alexander McFadyenReviews
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10 Reviews Added on January 16, 2017 Last Updated on January 19, 2017 AuthorJohn Alexander McFadyenBrixworth, England, United KingdomAboutWell, have a long and complicated story and started it as an autobiography on Bebo but got writer's block/memory fogging. People liked it though and kept asking for the next chapter! fools.. more.. |

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