Angel of Snow

 

Her face was like the first time I saw snow.

I was twelve years old, and it was

a cold January morning.

The young cedar trees surrounded me

They stood tall and still

in the face of a chilly breeze.

She had red cheeks, small nose

and beautifully contoured hazel eyes.

A few freckles under her eyes and a

mole just near her upper lip.

The lush ground below

inhaling the clean air around.

gazing towards the white.

Leave-less trees continue till my frozen eyes can see,

Standing tall in the nakedness they have come to be.

Her stance had purpose and her neck gave  

that air of cool superiority.

The short, light blue summer skirt matching

Her tanned thighs.

the white thinly striped blouse barely

covering her small breasts.

The crispness of the North winds swirling from beneath,

My body trembling all the way up to my chattering teeth.

 

The ice-cold feeling rising to my now cherry red cheeks.

Her sandy hair swaying in the breeze

Voices in my head

Take a deep breath. Smile. Be me.

We looked at each other.

The beating of my heart

the restlessness of my feet

Her come here smile

Continuing my steps between the contours of this white path

The thawing of my freezing arteries’ wrath

The quietness of the moment

the stillness of my mind that I enthuse

the peace which

removes the darkness

I haven’t been freeing.

This frozen whiteness

rejuvenating me and making me whole.

I am the white lightness of being.

 

 

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