Frail Shelter

Winter colours creep


towards you, cold


tightens your breath


to lock you in.


Somehow they always


sense their time


to steal through


while the air is brittle.


They must have heard


the echoes of your tears


blaming the clay.


A towel of light


will dry resemblance


from your face,


make you ghostly.


Soon,


a white emptiness


will drop about you


like a cage.

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