Frostbite
Have you ever watched the
snow falling;
when every flake is coming
towards you in slow
motion?
It must be attracted
to the warmth of your
skin or maybe
the sound of your
laugh.
Unless that’s just me.
Crisp flakes with
real definition carved
from harshing cold
swindle around
the cold that cut me:
you there, standing there, smiling.
If you were anyone else,
you’d be long gone by
now- blown away
by the blizzard.
But you’re too immune:
a gust of hot
air in the cool wind,
always wreaking havoc.
Although, it goes,
my head shakes
as I extend my arms,
inviting your chill into my soul.
Copyright © Randi Strandberg | Year Posted 2014
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