The Cold, Cold War

We found each other in the snow

swaddled in fading flags

fingers curled around icy balls,

as, curious, we eyed each other

across the wall

you, my enemy,

small in the snow

holding something tight

in a gloved hand,

a weapon of some kind,

too small to be seen

too grand for the likes of you or me,

a storm in a teacup, or

a gift of fire,

too great for mankind to hold

the power of the gods that left us

small

and alone

in the cold.

.

© Copyright David Marriott  all rights reserved­.