Wednesday, September 11, 2013


The air stings her lungs as she breathes in
The world is a blanket of white around her
There was no warmth to be found in this covering
No shelter
No protection
But she was grateful for its concealment
It hid the flaws and imperfections
Making all around her one
A clean slate

The chill that had set in
Like a million tiny earthquakes
Shaking her body
But the warmth had left her long before then
A coldness that couldn't be undone with a coat
Or a hot glass of cider

Each footstep shattered the sheath of snow
Leaving a trail of destruction on this serenity
 She crosses the street
She glances up at the steeple of the church there
Snow dances from the sky
It falls on her cheeks
Leaving the slightest drops of moisture
Those are tears

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