Of What, I Am Not Certain

Free-Verse Poetry

I remember when
Our eyes opened
With the rising of the sun

The smell of morning air
And a renewal that cannot quite be captured
In words
Can only be felt
But for a moment

I remember standing
Behind a frozen pane of glass
Staring out
Into a world of swirling white
Wondering
Whether there was still anything left at all
Beyond

There is a chill which lingers
In the air even in warm rooms
Waiting
Until finding its way
Straight through thick jackets
Shirts and flesh beneath
Straight to the core
Of what, I am not certain
For I have felt it so many times before
But cannot trace
From where it started
Nor when or where it ceased to be

Published by Auroraboros

Author of prose and poetry at http://objectsanddistance.com Find me on Instagram @auroraboros

Published

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