Cold is blue — the shade of glaciers,
of dripping icicles, of lips drained of warmth.
Red mittens collect frost upon their wool
and glitter. Snow falls with a hush, compacting
itself upon evergreen boughs until,
too heavy, it clomps onto the ground.
Laugh, shout, scream — and cloudy puffs of breath freeze,
solidify into an intricate web work of ice, then collapse
into gravity's embrace and shatter upon the sidewalk,
fragments spreading with a soft sound, like a tinkling of tiny bells.
__________________________
Author's Note: This poem was written in response to the prompt "Shattered Scream" from @AngelHeart111.
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Project
PoetryThe Poetry Project was ongoing from early 2013 through April 30, 2014. It invited readers to submit prompts, which I turned into poems. The prompts were quite varied and let me stretch my skills, like doing calisthenics. The project is over, but th...
