Cold

She sits in sombre silence
As dusk slowly darkens
To match the mellow 
Of her mood.

Winter still lingers
Long after southern fields
Have melted into mud,
And the ice seems to wrap itself around her
One frozen finger at a time.

She’s cold
~ so cold~
And the thaw
Seems a long time coming

But she holds tight to old smiles
And whispered thoughts,
And just a single brush of his finger
Against her cheek
Is all the magic she needs
To warm her
From the inside out



Janet Reid
march 2008




 
Awarded by Poetic Constellations




 
Awarded by Poetic Constellations