The grey sky
And the snowy rooftops
Blur together,
A panorama
In monochrome,
A mural that blinds
And burns the eye
Gazing upon it.
I close my curtains
Against the bright
And grey outside.
The snow muffles,
Drowns out sound
In its own white,
Icy waves of silence
Too complete
And too heavy,
To feel heard
To feel close to anyone.
I want to scream,
But I remain silent,
Frozen in isolation.
The cold numbs,
Fingers turn white
And tingle with
Too much exposure
To the world
Until the boundary
Between skin and air
Disappears.
I feel myself drift apart,
My being scattered
Like falling snowflakes.
The wind howls
A hollow warning
Through my window,
The trees stripped naked,
Shaking and shivering,
Barren and pleading
Against the gusts,
Bowing and begging for mercy.
I turn away from the sight,
The trees too familiar,
As I cower in my bed.
But spring will come.
It will bring blue skies,
Soft, young grass,
Gentle warmth,
And budding trees.
With open arms,
The earth will welcome
New life,
And I will walk
Among the flowers
And sing with the birds
Who have returned home.
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