wb :

spring came again
with rain in your hair;
tulipped bedsheets on chairs
drying in the sun. without
the life-support of heaters,
the freezer froze over.
little snowmen live now
amongst the fish and the
fowl. they have carrots
for noses; snowfights by
the dim rim of the
kitchen light, cheered
on by birthday cakes
and leftover mold.
i open the door,
but no sign of life
just plastic wrapped
hunks of meat
and their rapidly approaching
expiry dates.

i woke up to a world
in black and white;
knew exactly what
to do. the only shade
in between was chocolate
so i had some of that too.
i could catch words
before they flew out
lighted up like fireflies
stop phrases from
whizzing down waterslides.
i could do anything;
eat fire, change the
seasons, or bring on
the ice age - still the
zebras would always elude me.