Cold is
the rage that lies shielded
behind close-lipped disappointment
spilling out of pinched and scowling eyes
onto
the tiles below
joining the shattered pieces of
the sentry
who has fallen from his perch
pushed by unknowing hands
Clumsy and shameful as he lies
dejected
at our feet
But in the glint of blue and white
a wish fulfilled
as weight is lifted off weary shoulders
until
You call him broken
I call him free