Monday, March 28, 2016


Epiphanie © Etienne Cabran

It’s here.
Too near.
A mist of white.
A sigh of night.
Through the window.
“You friend or foe?”
A cold touch of ice.
Doesn’t feel too nice.
It now whispers away,
“You’re not welcome to stay.”
I’m leaving now.
I don’t care how.
Fingers wrap around my neck.
On my cheek I feel a peck.
Could that be a kiss?
Wasn’t hard to miss.
I’m chilled to the bone.
I’ve turned to cold stone.

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