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It's Snowing

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Frost bitten window panes

those messengers of the outside world

tell me to be cautious

pulsating blood beneath my fleshy hands press against

the spyglass into an external realm where

a giant push from the heavens and the whistle of cool breath

are enough to topple me over

The quiet visitor

weighs down its baggage

as the ultimate depressive eater,

layering houses, trees, fences, cars

with thick strokes of white icing

I am forced inward; the safest refuge

where raw life rubs its eyes open

after a long sleep

catch it, seize it for my own

and I greet its arrival with my tounge stuck wide out,

It tells me to follow the icy mazes dropped from the skies and into my palms,

for their destination soon melts away into a water puddle of a lost chance

The only way I will ever come close to understanding what it's like

to live inside of a snow globe world,

where it is settled then suddenly without any warning,

things shake up real fast

hopes, fears, and murals of dreams are rounded up towards the sky

and directed downward once more to settle onto our tongues

Comments (1)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

I am a fan of your extended metaphor. I think that you executed it well, without losing focus.

Joshua Hennen
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