The Bitter Cold

Sarah Green | Contributor

The big night is here.
As her mother waves goodbye,
She wonders what it will be like.
The lights.
The music.
The people.
Her white-blonde hair shines
In ringlets
Past her shoulders.
Her white dress
Looks angelic
In the moonlight.
It’s snowing.
The only covering she has
Is a gauzy,
White shawl.
She didn’t expect
The bitter cold.

They must have walked by her
Countless times.
Her body
Blends into the snow.
When they find her,
The only colour is on her lips.
The deep red
Stark against the ghostly figure.
Her skin is pale blue.
The light left her snowy grey eyes
Days ago.
She never made it to the dance.
She was claimed by
The bitter cold.