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.