I watch your back
and icicles sparkled
through my field of vision
the world comprised
of stark branches.
around me
frigid wind keened my demise
my bones felt frozen
my flesh ready to shatter at a blow
the cold trapped inside my skin.
I wanted to call your name
ask for you to stop my pain
but the air was so cold
it sliced my throat
like shards of glass
and I remained ice
your heat already a retreating memory
I was sure I would die
and I wanted to call your name
but there was only silence
and the cold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is fine imagery, but I am sorry for the pain that caused you to create this poem and hope that the winter mood will end for you soon. Regards, Sandra Fowler