To the Grocery Store

January 14, 2009
By Rebecca Giglio, New City, NY

Snow falls
White shimmering bells
Twinkle and ring as they land
Gently draping my eyelashes
Dripping icy water down the shells of my eyes
Down my cheek

I mount its solid metal frame
Twisted steel snake
I grip its two heads tight
My feet turn the wheel in rhythmic tune
I know it to be the closest thing to flying

My breath lingers just below my nose
And then I see it flutter with the falling snow
Twirling swiftly down and ‘round
Circling inside the kaleidoscope of its muddy tires

The snow flakes become a thousand gleaming daggers
Shooting towards me as I rip through
Escaping into the cave between the V of my winter coat
And my chilled neck
Down through the crevices of my winter scarf

Down hill at the speed of light
Gliding gracefully on the path’s coat of powder
Though really, we are slipping
With no control of poise
The world before me is monochromatic
Spearing towards me as I tear through it
Stinging me in and out
A dangerous combination of fear and exhilaration
And awe

The path has done its famous disappearing act
We’re alone
Writing our story on the white sheet before us
A never ending scribble of the places we would go

The author's comments:
Ocean Grove in the winter

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!