January snow ate my feet, freezing my
bones and catching my lashes amid the
blaring city street. Cold objects pass
me on the nipping sidewalk; briefly, I
…
glance up, and, through the window, a couple
people devour a novel coffeeshop chat.
I turned the streetcorner, then waited
for the crosswalk; the headlights bared
…
my uncanny solo shadow walking
across the asphalt. My nose reddens,
and, bitten far too long, my hands join in.
Two friends pass me in an amaible gait;
…
I could have sworn that, as they chatted,
the snow at their feet melted a little.
…
Copyright 2009 by Jessica Anne McLean, all rights reserved.
…
Author’s Note: The above is intended to be a Shakespearian sonnet in form, but understand it how you will.
The Rose 
Leave a comment