Cold fingers.

Cold fingers grasp my hand,

And warm my heart.

Making everything better than before.

Make me smile that silly smile,

And giggle like a little girl.

Cold fingers grasp my hand,

And the rest of the world vanishes.

Saddness goes away for good,

And bliss takes it's place.

Making that smile grow larger.

Cold fingers grasp my hand,

That feeling of emptyness melts away.

Giving into a feeling of wholeness.

My heart skips a beat when,

Cold fingers grasp my hand.

Reviews

[The Perfectionist]

It's a simple and pretty poem, which unfortunately means there isn't a whole I lot I can say about the damned thing. The one thing that I noticed worth complaining about would be the odd sense of pacing. Every time I felt I was getting into the rhythm of the poem, a line would be too short or too long and I'd have to start all over again. This is going to be more of a problem for people like me, who prefer musical poetry (read: songs), but less of an issue for other people. Even so, it's hardly a serious issue, and the poem is still well-written and compelling and all those other good words. It's not the best piece of writing I've ever seen, but that doesn't mean it isn't quite good.