Poetry That Breathes

Frozen

She was shivering on that cold March day. Snowflake diamonds in her hair.

Her breath a halo. A backpack where her wings… would have been or maybe should have been.

No would have been.

I’d seen her before but only remember her as a blur.

Happily dashing through the halls leaving you one of two options; move or have a clumsy girl smack into you.

She was a daydreamer.

Now I see her alone and shivering.

Pain and sorrow written with black sharpie on her face, around her snow swirled as she hugged herself.

From the cold probably but the comfort more likely.

So I stand here watching the wind whip her long brown hair… and somehow find the courage to walk up to her.