“Bare Feet”

From the warmth of her grandmother’s house

She sneaks – And weaves

A path through the snow

To recover her lost shoes,

Flung off in some momentary joy.

Her bare feet sinking in,

Crunching their way home.

She stumbles and slides

On icy cement-block steps,

Her red toes now unfeeling.

A pale hand, dug out of her pocket

To wipe away the foggy windows.

Her cheeks puff out warm air

White breath, on a clear cold morning.

A light breeze stirs the cool air, she shivers.

Back up the hill, she quickly fills her footsteps

And slips inside, her absence unnoticed.

She revels in the sudden flush of warmth.