crumpled

the wind
whistles
through me
as I sit in the snow,
crumpled,
just a scrap
of the man you
used to know,
who could swing you
up in the air
without a care;
please know
that inside
that fire rages,
just like before.



February 19, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.