Cold
The screams of the wind
Come across like a breeze
A blast from my breath
Flutter past my eyes
A whirlwind of air
Tickles the back hairs on my neck
Whisking through
Sending a sensation
Bold to the bone
Standing at the bus station
Waiting to leave
From this frost heave
The sun's ray
Trickles down to reach
My stretched out hand
To feel the warmth
Hitting my wedding band
Here comes the bus
Stops and opens its doors
The cold is now all yours!
Copyright © Steven Kopko | Year Posted 2018
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