This is a cold I have never felt before
Though I have little flesh exposed,
This must be what she felt that night
Though it is a white morning, the Black
Consumed her. Just an shadow of where
She lay on the bed.
The night arrives faster than before
it knocks gently on the door and pushes it
Slightly open like an intruder upon my solace.
It carries with the whisper of frost and void
And takes heart and joy and life from me
and delivers it to death.
Perhaps the woods would be more
Comforting, perhaps they would listen.
Their branches reaching towards my collar
Ash and flake fall together this night
Winter has become my fire and despair is my fuel.
Stain my coat with damp and suit,
Until I fall like the rest.
Copyright © Christopher Looper | Year Posted 2015
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