It's been such a long, long time.
The winter seasons bit my hands
Leaving traces of frostbite on my fingers
Trailing beneath the skin.
Blood pumped lethal cool to my head
And nothing happened,
Save the total halt of all thoughts to the contrary.
My fingers thawed when sun first lit
Upon the pages of my skin,
Flighting away the cool winter deadness.
Spring is a new beginning,
Certainly for poems that lie dormant in ice.
Liz Annson's Other Poems
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