My winter memories

Are laden with


They are so


That I cry thinking

Of what I have known

Beneath a sliver of


Across a glistening yard

That showed me diamonds

And white sand

While I could not sleep

A horizon to dream on

While my eyes would

Not obey me

And my restless mind was free

To wander those

Frozen paths.

The nights of full moon

When the ground

(Full covered)

They are not nights

And they are not days

The light is so much


Filled with magical stillness

And the soft whispers of

An unseen guest

I can’t feel cold

On such nights

Because it is so

Gentle to be out there

And I sit gazing

At a yard I play in

A world I know

But don’t in this unfamiliar guise

It is the filtering of this world

And it creates a purity that

Hides the clumsy

Unlovely and graceless parts

Of memorized paths.

So that each icy turn reveals

Deeper enchantment

To me.

My winter memories

Are so

Rich and vivid

But devoid of


Because the snow

Inevitably snow

Has drowned out all sound

Muffled and collapsed the spreading words

And echoing laughter

And thus my memories

Of playing and skating

Of climbing

And dreaming

Are silent

The anechoic chamber

Of my heart

Where frost, ice, and flaky stillness

Descend to shelter a child

That forgot to return home

One starlit eve.


~ by Rebecca Erickson on May 28, 2015.

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