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Waiting Out Winter

Luke Morgan

 

On a weather-worn bench

in a neglected public park

sits a silent girl.

Arms wrapped around knees,

sweater two sizes too large,

she waits.

Her eyes reflect

a silent land.

A world of naked trees,

fallen leaves,

and snow-covered sidewalks

stretches out

before her.

Devoid of life,

borderline gray,

the sky hangs.

Consuming dreams,

devouring half-formed hopes,

the cold wind cuts.

Receding into herself,

the girl searches for

the sun’s rays.

They’re too faint.

Her world too cold.

The ice refuses to vacate

its station

in her heart.

Her soul is frostbitten.

Her fire in hibernation.

Like the seasons,

she is not extinguished,

just waiting out Winter.