The earth and the snow
Are equally cold.
Ice drops won’t melt
Through clear window.
They say it must be
Fifty below
And the weatherman
Loves to put on a show.
Where do we go?
The cold surrounds
A happy home
And hinders any
Chance to grow
Above it all.
The snow still falls
And clings to the
External wall.
Drifts are over
Ten feet tall.
Without escape
The day grows late.
Casting cold
For freezing’s sake.
All that’s certain
As I draw the curtain
Through the storm’s
Unholy din.
I’m screaming within
Frigid weather again.
I’ve grown tired
Of it all.


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Filed under poem, poetry

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