the snow sticks
the rain rusts
the sun burns
the cold is harsh and unforgiving
it paints my fingers a blushing, hypothermic red
splotches of ivory
show my resistance
but no matter how long i hold on
how hard i grasp
how much i want and wish
nothing good comes from it
the door is open
the cold air makes itself at home
leaving me as the foreign presence
i stand there frozen
no longer in disbelief
but in disappointment
icicles formed in the door ways
snowflakes invaded dusty corners
why
on
earth
did i think summer would ever come?
Allure is an editor of MT’s Soliloquy club and a Photographer for The Township Times. Read more of Soliloquy’s work here: https://sites.google.com/site/mthssoliloquy/home?pli=1&authuser=1&scrlybrkr=adb1065a
