Day 4: The Great Thaw

Sarah writes poems

We fidget on settled sofas / tired of our tissue
blankets beckon in the hot-press
but we’re not cold enough / not yet compressed
the season’s turned / though not quite enough

A man in shorts / yesterday / in the graveyard
not even shivering on the freshly turned / since repressed earth

We talk of fairy lights / smaller tables
less chairs needed / more lights / candle light
lights that need batteries / lights that will never light
again / we fidget on the sofa / push hands down the sides
looking for all the things / we can no longer find

Mum hasn’t seen Frozen yet / maybe this year
to feel numb / conceal / for a time / to not feel
to let it go / let it melt away
as we fidget on the sofa / with our tissue

Next year / we’ll build…

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