The Symbol of Life
By Phoebe B
Published 25 August 2016
Her face is pasty with cold,
framed by layers of fleece.
Her jumper is wet with rain,
clinging to her fragile body.
Her eyes are wide with fear,
of her inability to move.
Her shallow breaths are cloudy,
as the cold creeps its way through her.
Her hands trace a pattern in the mud,
numb to the never ending cold.
Slowly, she closes her eyes.
Slides her hands into her pockets.
Inhales one last time.
but it’s not the last time.
Her fingers wrap around the smooth, warm symbol,
discarded in an old coat pocket.
Her eyes blink open
Her shoulders lift in breath
Her body fills with life
Pure, joyous life