Winter

A cracked lip; raw skin.

I pined for orange flickers

Dancing off a cheery fire.

A gelid blast of arctic air

Had caught me unawares –

Reinforcing my desire.

Turning down an avenue,

I froze; suspicious trees –

Likely destined for a pyre –

Were laughing off the icy chill

Of callous winter nights.

And I? Simply to retire

Snug, inside a balmy chair

Of warming solitude:

Ah! my carol, my festive choir.

~Mark R Slaughter~

TK xx