Eye Sore Poem by Alistair Plint

The cold was torturous.

Painful to the bones
muscles tightened.
The wind
left frozen
breath
on our ears.

She wore that
long black
trench coat
like it
was knitted
to her skin.

Wrapped a scarf
around her neck
like a noose
hugging
the jugular.

A tear drop
spilled
from her
eye.

I was sure
it would
freeze.
Stared
at it;
gazed
at it's
beauty
as it glided
down her
cheek

over her
soft
full
lips.

Wondered what
that blistering
cold salt water
drop-let
would
taste-like.

I'd imagine
it was the purest
cleanest
water
known to man.

Then man
hadn't polluted
it

yet!

-x-