white sky, white ground
she walks in a bubble
muffled in down, fur and denim
only a bit of face bare
frozen breath puffing out
black tree skeletons rise along the river
she remembers colours –
red lilies, blue iris, so many shades of green
far beyond the stratosphere hangs the blazing sun
a star that warms this pallid world
Note: I mostly write prose, but do dabble in poetry now and then. It's been a long, cold winter already. This came to me on a not so cold, but drab day. Comments and suggestions welcome.
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