Permafrost

I’m shaking like a leaf on a bare tree branch
Fighting the frigid winds of February
With every ounce of force I have left.
Saint Lawrence mocks me from afar
With fluid blue eyes full of contempt,
His icy stare puts permafrost in my heart.
The sky is the softest shade of grey
Sparingly brushed with a delicate baby blue
Tinged with pink by the descending sun
And it seems so strangely sad to witness
Such a colourful commotion through such bitter tears.
I’m hanging onto the pieces of a broken rope
That once tethered me to the ground
Now I bury my head in the clouds and cry
Because I’m freezing cold and can’t let go.

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