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Frozen Mornings

Poetry By: Ousma

A poem about waking up to the cold as the seasons change.

Submitted:Sep 18, 2011    Reads: 17    Comments: 4    Likes: 2   

The house retains a serpentine chill

That slithers down into the bones

It seeps out from the stone walls

And up through the icy wooden floors

That sting defenseless bare feet

We emerge from our sleep weary and worn

As though we never slept at all

Our knuckles swollen and slow

Inflated from the serpentine cold

We hide away beneath warm blankets

And pretend we never woke

The sky outside the window

Is too bright a blue

Framed by fingers of red, brown, and yellow

It had a tenseness as though it were made of ice

And may at any moment crack and shatter

And fall down upon the world below

The fire snaps and hisses

Breaking the serpent into sharp pieces

Melting the numbness from our fingertips

And the pale blue tint from our lips

The furniture gathers around the stove

And a floor of blankets sprawls outward from the hearth

A wisp of hot cocoa steam curls into the air

Clutch the cup tight to your chest

And hope the warmth will keep the serpent from invading there


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