Frozen Oblivion

By: Yezekiel Williams

A subzero winter
          with no snow
          bleached birds trace
             halos over my head,
          replacing the cotton of
             the cerulean sky.

The wind has already
          beckoned you to flee,
          I lie awake, pale and
             paralyzed in a culvert,
          so glacial and slow moving,
             preserving my nerves.

A golden globe in the
          flock smears away,
          cygnets on the ground with
             feathers falling slowly after,
          drifting gently down the
             stream, pitiful company.

Life was once a
          beautiful dream...

Why am I so cold?