Saturday, December 15, 2012

The Missing

Into the morning,

the world that is stillness,

coldness pierces her everything.

The warmth that escapes her

billows up, and is lost to the night;

with a gulp she attempts to reclaim it,

only a burst of ice meets her sore throat.

Over the treetops framed in darkness

tiny dewdrops rest

like diamonds, the glowing frost casts light

which whispers the impending dawn.

At daybreak, the girl, the earth,
Union, holds her breath.

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