Snow Snatched
We encircled her
That February day.
Amid sustaining whir
She lay.
Had I known
The hollow was to come
I’d be there still
Hearing the hum.
Her feet were cold
I tried to warm them
She lay so still
Mine own sweet gem.
Her brain they said
Beyond all function.
The friar led the
Extreme unction.
Oh damn that day
With its bright big sun
We loved the snow.
Look what it’s done.
Copyright © Kathryn Collins | Year Posted 2012
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