Cold Poem by Richard R Collins Jr

Cold is an icicle
Cold can be felt in the air
Whisking across my already parched cheek
Pure red now.

Cold is felt inside my refrigerator
Inside the closed compartment
Which is at the top.

Freezing point
It's like the depths of a chill full
Snowy night.
But the chill outside
Is open
Not in a small place

Cold is the season
Many layers of clothes
Piled upon me
It's in the air
Coming off from a lake

Cold