The Call of the Cold
I long for the frigid caress of the winter,
Carelessly scouring my face with her wrath,
Embracing me with an icicle splinter,
Making me lose my mind in the math.
Yes! I seek it more than you can e'er know!
How could I turn down such a baptismal bath?
Emerging, anew, in some glorious glow,
A creature thawed out from deep-dreaded path.
Release me, dear winter; freeze out my poor chest!
Then, might I forget her, then might I have rest.
Written for "Acrostic Poem about Fall or Winter" contest, sponsored by Janice Canerdy
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