nothing is colder than
a broken heart
on winter's heels

the sun has that certain haze
as if it were the dead of Summer
and heat radiated through the air

but

this is a tease a reminder of those days
because indeed the air is fresh
and sharp as it should be in Winter

at the seaside a roaring song and dance
those distant waves appear as a range
the ridges of a desert mountain top

and

silhouetted at depths with the vibrance
of sunset hues bringing shade to the wild
while preparing for the cool of night

the reflections are shorter now
and I lose sight of that glowing orb
as far off clouds take shape to dip

then

colors shift to violet, navy and maroon
leaving a bruise to bumps in the night
and dream of an August day by the sea

I sit alone in cold wind breeze
At night some time out night air,
And cold wind finds my face homely
And light-***** shine their brightest blare

I'll see some hands that tread alone
All through night they sit alone
Somewhere the sun creeps up on me
But then the moon reminds my soul:

I walk alone along the sky
Sometimes I float and touch too high,
And then I float back down my keep
And felt as once I'd never been.

I saw Sting in the lobby this morning, we were going out and he was coming in. Lisa nudged me, “Sting” was all she whispered. He was with a woman and a man. The woman was talking to the doorman. Sting was dressed all in black except for a long stark-white cashmere scarf, he was chatting and working a dark-gray French-flat-cap around in his hands. His hair is very short and white.

We wanted to walk in the snow, if only for a minute.
A gust of wind caught us as we reached the sidewalk. The two American flags, on either side of the entrance, went rigid, at 9-o’clock as if saluting us. “Jeeez!” I said, like the Georgia girl I am - or was. “Don’t be a baby,” Lisa answered, like a true, pittyless New Yorker but her cheeks had turned a child-like pink. She flipped up her collar.

I patted my pocket, relieved to feel my phone and know that if we froze to death the authorities could use “find my friends” to locate our bodies.

Leeza joins us a moment later and I can’t help but notice that she’s dressed like it’s a cool fall day. Back in the day, when my brother would dress like summer even though temperatures in Georgia had dipped cruelly into the fifties. Seeing him, my mom would say, “Where there’s no sense, there’s no feeling,” but I don’t.

“Did you see Sting?” I asked Leeza (12). She gives me a blank look. “Sting”, I said, “the lead singer for The Police?” I add, as clarification. “I don’t know who that is,” she says flatly. “He was famous,” I say in surrender, “a long time ago, in the 90s.” Maybe the next generation won’t be as celebrity driven.

Thank God Lisa suggested I pin my artist-beret down or it would have blown away, like my resolve to walk in the snow. Still, I followed Lisa into the park like a cat on a leash - unwilling to be seen as any less Canadian. The show crunched like we were trampling over snow-cones.

Trees began turning away the wind as we entered Central Park, “I think we may survive.” I said cheerfully. Just because you're freezing to death doesn’t mean you can’t be ​​affable.

Why don’t pigeons freeze to death - I thought birds flew south for the winter?

He won’t cut his hair
Because his ears will get cold
And his eyes are dark brown
But they stare into my soul
He doesn't want to be close
Or give out hugs
But he’s always there
To check how I am
And I like this boy
And it’s ******* annoying
And I like this boy
With his drawing obsession
And his chat about a game
I have no clue about
Or an anime series
That I’ve never seen
And we joke about how
He’s so **** at maths
And he compliments my new hat
Because he knows I want one
But no one else has
And he's quick to defend me
Like I am for him
And we gel really well
But I wish we weren't friends
Being friends makes things awkward
So I'll ignore it instead
For a couple of years
Then remember and go
Oh **** yeah
**** I used to like that emo lookin kid
But he only looked like that
Because he refused to get his haircut
Because his ears would get cold

The naked trees surround
A dark winding concrete road

They’ve lost their decor
Once bearing leaves with color
Now absent

Knotted branches resemble the *** holes
A few ghost towns

Abandoned souls.

Spirits sweep the path in a dust

Snowflakes appearing alongside
Intertwined with the freezing air

Falling slowly
Softly
Slowly

Just as
Snow
Found its home on the ground

So may I

Lost but not searching

Monsters lurking.