Night Blindness

Oliver DesRosiers

Time is slow and cracked like glass.

The dew is frozen on the grass.

The air is cold, the sky is white.

The air bites at my lips with spite.

Now I walk in bitter cold,

my fingers numb, I couldn't hold.

Time is shattered by my stride.

I have nowhere left to hide.

My legs go numb, the sidewalk winding.

The traffic whipping by is blinding.

One cold foot into the road.

I stepped across

and ran for home.