Waiting in the freezing rain, I watch my breathing fog my way,
The frost that on the sidewalk glistens, and the tungsten fireflies that float and listen.
I drift without a soul in sight to pull me back and set me right.
Perhaps, when lost enough, I fall, and the Lord presents me with a wall,
And flying fast I crash headfirst, and my whole lamplit bubble bursts,
I’ll see the wall I hit: the ground... and then myself, when I’ve been found.
Created: Jul 25, 2010Document Media