If I scrunch my eyes up tight, I can squint you back into being. If morning is crisp and clear with soft snow setting the day’s volume, I know you’ll come. We’ll be side by side again, cocooned against the cold in those neon pink puffas we love so much. We’ll trudge back up to the top of the hill so we can run and tumble and laugh until our sides hurt. If I scrunch my eyes up tight, just for a moment, the pain is nothing more than a twig in the deep, deep snow.
With thanks to Linda M. Bayley, 'Shelter'
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