With numbing cold, biting at my brittle bones <br /> I feel many years giving me a wake up shake <br /> Gripping my coat through the more gripping cold <br /> I feel the world has grown old. <br /> <br /> January I cried for my Mom the first time <br /> She probably cried and then smiled for my tears <br /> She surely is yet smiling for my thoughts through these years <br /> <br /> For the tears that she shed were at giving me birth <br /> January is the warmest time on earth<br /><br />John Shea<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/january-4/
