Gold flickered within the
fresh layer of snow
as I pressed my temple
against the door frame.
The cold winter winds
caressed my skin, and
I felt the hairs on my
arms rise and take a bow.
I closed my eyes for a moment
and let my mind paint
pictures freely,
and I thought about last
winter—sledding
down a hill, laughter echoing
through the crisp air, my hair carelessly
wrapped inside my ski cap—
and caked blood matted upon my hands—
I opened my eyes and
crossed my arms, gently
touching the plastic
of my left arm.
-me
