Rapture

Snow coats tongues and hands that scrape,
Footsteps over ice and earth.

Passing through the barren branches of home,
The logs we used to climb across.

Slick and slumbering, nursing bruises from tumbling over,
Struck by the finality of it all.

The end of days looks so much like every day before,
But with a purple elbow and toothy grin.

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