[December 26th, 2013; Toronto, Ontario]

The trees are frozen tonight.

Ice came and covered each branch,

Glossing the bark in sheets of heavy ice.

Some trunks still stand like glass sculptures,

Others have crumbled from its weight.

Winter has killed everything.

The sun is frozen tonight.

Cold wind intercepts its heat,

Thick clouds blocking the fading light.

Everything is grey,

Everything is dead.

Thumbelina dreams of her Fairy Prince,

But now there’s no more sun,

Winter has killed everything.

The city is frozen tonight.

Fallen trees befall neighbourhood power lines,

Casting roads and sidewalks in darkness.

Only some houses have heat,

Roasting chestnuts by an open fire,

Others dine by candlelight,

Eating cold cut sandwiches,

And toasting with glasses of fresh tap water.

The power won’t return until after Christmas,

Winter has killed everything.

My hands are frozen tonight.

I try to keep them busy,

Finding pen and paper to write this poem.

The last of this candle’s wick burns,

A mere glow against the dark December night.

My sister lay asleep next to me,

Both of us cuddle close under seven layers of blankets,

The night will creep by slowly,

But sleep will find us quickly.

Winter has killed everything.


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