While I Wait
I long to tell you the light
in your eyes reminds me
of a snow-covered lamp post
calling to me in the night,
to show how such fire
breathes in me as the world
is lulled to slumber. My cheeks
warm to brave winter butterflies
come to kiss me. Between white
feathers nestling in trees, ice
dust on grass becoming infinite
mirror shards for light to bounce
off, there is a world of fiery
chill, there are hearts that leap
like pop rock birches in chimneys,
as mine does, when I think of you.
I’ll hold on to the lamp post; snow
does not fall alone tonight.
Amélie Robitaille is a French Canadian who likes to think of ADHD as her superpower. She’s based in Mississauga, Ontario, where she publishes Savant-Garde Lit Mag. She holds a B.A. in Media Studies and is studying Creative Writing & Publishing at Sheridan College. Her work has been published by C&P Quarterly, Headline Poetry & Press, and is forthcoming in Crow & Cross Keys. She loves cooking, great puns, and cooking up a great pun.