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By Sharon Siegel


The Montréal Review, September 2011




Winter, you are cold

Crisp, frigid air

Hands meet pockets

Chills sent down my spine

Winter, you are cold


Puddles on the sidewalk

Ready to freeze over

I see palm trees ahead

But I feel winter


Gusts of winds

Whirling through the air

Leaves fluttering

Through the heavy breeze


Iciness in my veins

Under grey, gloomy skies

Numbness takes over

Winter, you are cold


Put me back inside

Place me by the fire

These palm trees are not inviting

Winter, you are cold


The radiator

Hums in the bedroom

Sunlight has not

Graced the yard

Time passes and we wait


Green grass

Through the panes of time

Bright rays have not

Delivered themselves upon

The untouched land


Rusty Sundial

Cold in the ground

No shine, No shadows

Rendered useless

When time stands still


This dusty room

Lonely inside

Clock on the wall

Ticking and waiting

For what is missing

Inside the Cellar

It is cold inside the cellar

It is safe inside the cellar


Peaceful, comfortable, alone.


It is cramped inside the cellar

It is dark inside the cellar


Protected, sheltered, alone.


It is still inside the cellar

It is fine inside the cellar


No need to see beyond the cellar door.


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