Late Frost

Late Frost

 

Surprised by the renegade day

you had expected the temperate,

a welcome more fitting for late May.

 

This chilled air has the tell of a first date

bound to fail. 

In the gathering grey, nothing shines,

your prospects dimmed

as the dial’s sharp shadow declines

with the sun. 

Sails untrimmed

you flounder and fade

becalmed into an all-consuming mist,

leaving nothing but the shade

and shape of one hoping to be kissed.

 

Given no horizon, what is there left to see

but your life still and frosted and solitary?

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