The Cassandra

It’s time for us to walk among the frost
January has come upon us again
The frozen air will make me peacefully stoic
And you will ask me if everything is alright

In town the chimneys will be working
Lazy clouds slowly climbing brick conversing
Until their destination is reached
And the sky’s icy fingers pull them away

We’ll walk along nearly empty streets
And notice that time itself has fallen dormant
Sleeping alongside the frosty windows
Littered with fanciful children’s drawings

Our bench in the park will be waiting for us
Secluded from the brick and cobblestone
Listening to the glass encased leaves whisper
We’ll take our seat, eyes half-closed
And I’ll ask you if you feel alright
My words will split in half
Echoing into the distance and dissipating
As vapor near the tip of my nose

We’ll find the place by that gnarled oak
Where the snow drifted forms a frozen grove
Where peace grows like unattended wildflowers
Where one final breath will heat the air
And I’ll lay asleep in the snow

In the town the chimneys will continue
Unnoticed with their seasonal labors
While you walk beneath the canopy
The man from the curio shop will sweep
Clearing the path for you

I will sail across the sky stretched thin
A cloud of smoke, fainter, then fainter yet
A single breath in frozen air
Then just an echo far in the distance

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