Grandma’s House

Crunching snow under my feet,

I like this sound.

I bend reality, 

Like a minor key

Of desolation

Frosted branches

frozen in silence

Until the wind breaks them

into sticks.

 

Cold attacks my cheeks.

It’s the crunch of footsteps

and sparkle on white

That leads me down 

Deception Pass~~

freezing is not an illusion

Just a few steps more

and in the wood fire’s flame

My hands will thaw 

into stinging nettles 

When all I wanted 

Is a tender moment

with you.

And a cookie