Winter Nights

April 1st: throes of spring

Last winter, I walked through the park, empty and alone

red in the snow looked like blood

so I drew pictures of an ending only I know.

I sat and stayed there, rooted to the only place I could ever be wanted,

fingers numb from holding on too long

waiting for the flood to come take me away.

Will someone come take me away

from these frost-covered winter nights?

I’m so tired of wondering if I should’ve made it to nineteen

drawing the ending from the throes of this hurt,

growing colder and colder with each line.

But I stayed there, as the sun broke through the clouds,

melting the pictures in the snow

and flowers grew over my bare feet.

I think spring must be near,

but why are my fingers still numb from my days in the snow?

-August J. Rose

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hello and welcome to the first post in my escapril series. I’ll be writing a poem every day and posting it on here, so if you’d like to read them, please consider subscribing so you’ll always know when I’ve posted.