Your puffed up coat with brown fur at the tip
accentuates your already puffed out chest,
shielding you from whips of razor wind chill.
Your small oval glasses,
two small clouds
blind you from the glorious view.
Wind licks you up every few seconds
and you try not to bend into submission,
you fight the urge to lie down in a fetal position
and succumb to the new womb,
a cool blanket to comfort you where
no fire would ever extinguish you.

-Foxxie

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