A cold December’s morn
And I watch a single snowflake
Fall from the sky
And land lazily onto my cheek.
I sigh and a puff of wintry air
Forms, shapes, and then disappears.
The snow on the ground
Is so bright and so clean,
That it looks like an unfinished dream,
Some sort of unwritten, winter magick.
It’s so quiet in this frosty
Save for the beating of my lonely heart.
Because it’s just me,
Thinking about the lost days.
The days I try not to remember.
Intrusive thoughts are like that,
They barge their way in,
Like an uninvited guest and
Overwhelm you with their strength.
But from the back of my mind,
I hear a voice.
It’s so faint,
That it sounds
Like a whisper amongst the rushing
Water that is my thoughts.
It’s so small,
This lovely voice.
It’s so precious.
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