Frigid, calm front hides in northern winds, the vast sky of my bedroom dims. Stream in winter Iced over, mother’s embrace letting go at bedtime.   Still raining, sky’s dark pillow, eyelids become anchors, smothering.   The cold front blanketing these damp lids, peacefully covers the coming storm.

My eyes upon her beautiful, breathless silence.   Whilst she sleeps forever, I whisper to her in prayer.   Hoping she’ll come back, I know that’ll never be.   I consider setting foot into the grave to find her.