You see me in the winter
You see me in the winter
when the trees have lost their leaves,
when the gaps are wide and gaping,
bitter’s visage twisted mean.
You see me in the winter
when nobody else comes by,
when the drifts of icy sorrow
reflect the slippery slate of sky.
When I’m six degrees below,
this lonely separation,
and my body sinks still further
as it’s buried dark in snow.
When the cold plunges deep
but you try to understand,
as it touches aching bones
you proffer a kindred hand.
When breath fogs white,
and the edges fuzz and splinter,
at least the stranger in the mirror knows,
you see me in the winter.
Words and photograph by Jess Sturman-Coombs
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