Local Girl Dies of Frostbite

By | 27 June 2005

I'm cold and tired and must lie down
in my nurse's dress,
five hundred paces from my town,
the air in snow-distress.
That which makes me bed the ground
I never kissed; the warmth
that has escaped my body
will not be missed, though found
I seem a princess felled by a thorn –
a simple cold spell –
so close to houses where I was born.
If you might rub my blood to burn
all'd be grateful, not to mourn;
as is, I wear a winter crown.

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