My fingers are stone
my veins know
it cannot find comfort in this snow.
As it falls on my head (so quietly),
accumulating with the thoughts (so heavy);
feet submerged in the ground (as my hopes).
The sky is grey above, and
the ground is so pristine underneath,
even no vapours on the grass.
pumps through the heart,
as the truant’s flesh grows tight.
Eyes come to freeze
leaving within them....
A dream of Sunlight.