Wind in the Ice Caves
Wind blows round
my empty heart
Spreading through
all the ice caves.
Wind chilling
even Passion’s fire.
Wind not stopping.
Wind dispersing
My emotions.
Up, down, around
The stalactites.
Breathing into
Every vein.
Wind chilling (champagne)
in the ice caves
Of lost Love.
Bits chip off.
Quiet.
Melt
into
Nothingness.
Thread thin silence.
CRACK.
Snapped. Finished.
E n d e d.
by Janet Brugos, Paris, France 1993
I could feel that chilly wind.
It is strange some periods in life have a range of temperature but certain days are extreme. Those extremes help us appreciate the opposite.