The Snow Child

 

In the hushed caramel of dusk,

a face puckered and pale

against the ice cold pane

watched the children,

cheeks flushed, rose-pink lips,

dance ungainly and free

amongst the tinsel spread about

and ’round the glowing tree,

for one petite minute:

he did not feel his fingers,

– blistered – bloodied –

held fast against his chest,

he did not suffer

the grumble of killing hunger

that juddered

his skeletal frame,

he stood unmoving

‘til the lights went out.

Shoulders bowed

under the load of his pain,

he slid into the snow,

he did not notice the new day,

sense the children rousing,

their joy a hymn washing

through the house,

he did not see the door open

releasing a rush of warmth

spilling over the porch

and into the street,

he did not hear the family,

their cries of varied pitch

as they assembled around,

he did not feel the tiny hand

reaching out to pluck away the

tears frozen upon his face.

********************************************

This poem was published online at Asylum Poetry Magazine, with 2 others of mine. If you wish – click on the link:

http://www.papercut.herobo.com/Asylum/Asylum3/Asylum.html

Lots of great poetry by New Zealand poets and some beautiful photography as well. This issue of the magazine showcases a lot of emerging talent in New Zealand. I am proud to have been included.

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Author: Jo Bryant

I was born in the land of Banjo Paterson, gum trees, and weather extremes. I am a freelance writer. I live in the Bay of Plenty, New Zealand, but still like to claim my Australian heritage. I graduated with a Bachelor of Communications in 2008. I am writing my first novel. I love to write poetry, short stories, and also write for the web. And there is nothing that is on a par with a sunny summer's day spent at Waihi Beach.

1 thought on “The Snow Child”

There are two things I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: I want to hear your opinion.

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