Terry Collett

Gold Star - 23,103 Points (13/12/1947 / LONDON)

Snow Bound 1971 - Poem by Terry Collett

It's snowing‭;
I can see it‭
through‭
the ward window, ‭

drifting slow‭
and filling‭
the branches‭
of the trees,

and out there‭
in the fields about.‭
It looks surreal, ‭
like it is being painted‭

as I watch.‭
Glad we're in here, ‭
not out there in it, ‭
Yiska says, ‭

moving next to me‭
at the window.‭
I can smell her perfume‭
or is it soap‭?

It has a kind‭
of fascination, ‭
I say, ‭
trying to imagine soldiers‭

on the Russian Front‭
knee deep‭
in to snow, ‭
fingers freezing‭

to rifles, ‭
feet so cold‭
they freeze off.‭
She says nothing‭;

looks at the fall of snow.‭
You have imagination, ‭
I’ll give you that, ‭
she says after a few minutes.‭

Some days I want‭
to just lie there‭
and become numb‭
in snow.‭

I read some place‭
soldiers froze‭
where they stood‭
like statues, ‭

dead and white, ‭
I add, ‭ ‬looking at her‭
beside me, ‭ ‬her hair‭
unbrushed, ‭ ‬her pale‭

blue nightgown‭
hanging loose, ‭
no belts or ties‭
allowed‭(‬suicides‭

always possible‭) ‬, ‭
her eyes staring‭
outward.‭
If I could get out‭

of this locked ward, ‭
I’d be out there, ‭
looking for a place‭
to just lie, ‭ ‬and go‭

to sleep, ‭ ‬she says.‭
I imagine us both‭
laying there out‭
in the falling snow, ‭

cold, ‭ ‬freezing‭
waiting to go.

Topic(s) of this poem: life


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 3, 2015



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