June 2, 2009
By Megan Boal BRONZE, Meadow Vista, California
Megan Boal BRONZE, Meadow Vista, California
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

It crept upon me,
Sly, cunning, devious.
Tickling my ears,
Breathing against my neck,
Creeping down my arms,
Sinking deeper, deeper
Into my skin.
Oozing through my veins,
I feel its icy hand upon my back,
My shoulders,
My throat,
Until I feel that I might drown.
I feel as if I may suffocate.
Strangling me with all its strength,
It holds on with its arctic grip.
Ahead I see a flame.
The hand sees it too,
And releases.

The author's comments:
In Mrs. Page's Creative Writing class, we were instructed to write a desription of "cold".

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