Winter Wonderland

The rink is sliced up from the many feet

That have cut across it with their blades,

Some nimble, some unsteady as a foal,

Scarring the ice in every direction.

The rain has come and gone,

Leaving behind several shallow puddles

Which we must skirt around.


My woolen scarf is wound tight around my neck,

But my gloves are worn through,

So I feel the warmth of your dry hands.

When you press your thumbs against mine

I wonder at what we have lost

Time and time again.


I feel your soft imprint on my palm, on my mind.

Never have I been so at war within myself,

starting to feel like I don’t have any answers.


We could live anywhere but here

Yet we never feel at home

Neither in the heat nor in the snow and the damaged ice.






Our smiles stretch under the curved glass frame

Fuelled by the sudden gust of wind that flipped our umbrellas inside out.

As we laughed together the rain caught our uncovered faces

In a moment of surprise and joy, shot by a weather reporter

And framed by my parents the following month.

In that photo we stride unflinchingly towards the present,

Hands gripping our umbrellas tightly and eyes blinded by rain.

We stride as equals, in step with one another along the road.

I am sorry that we could not remain equal as we do there,

Propped up on a bookcase by my hanging mirror.

I am sorry that life took away so much from you,

That I could not be there to laugh with you when the rain really began to come down.