The stars shine in my winter sky.
“Perfect,” opens my lips; I watch where I remain.
Cashmere clings to the slope of my shoulder.
I am lost in a storm of ice –
cold expanse, longer shadows, I’m not prepared to see.
“Was it– is this– my all?”
I think I’ll stay here where it’s warm,
sparkling frost glazing my eyes,
holds me firmly —
like rusted steel on the garden gate.
I will not quit.
Will not. Quit.
Cold, it is in me.
This is where I am.
Cheers to 2017 xox