Blue and bloom

Familiar song, familiar voice;

it feels like home when I hear her, even

this sad song about escape and the state

of Christmas these days, unchanged since nineteen-

seventy-one. The sky outside is blue

as her voice; chilling but picked out in a

warm low-angled sun so white it makes me

want to weep. The last dying chords are in

the ice patterns on my window sill, but

I can only make my breath bloom on the

pane.

Reviews

[Ariel B.]

I keep coming back to this one in between reading all the others. So beautiful.