The cold, unwanted, and unseen
sat by the door, too scared to scream.
It sat and shivered, and shook, and quaked
until its head down to its toes ached.
But the cold smiled when it heard its name.
To others, it would have all been the same,
but that special moment when its fears were covered and gloved
was the one moment Cold realized he was loved.
The bright, the loved, and the light
sat up tall and straight.
It smiled and laughed and loved at every corner,
It would never, ever, ever be a mourner.
But the bright tripped and fell and hurt its knee
and all the little busy ants were something to see.
That was when Bright realized that
it’s possible to get hurt, because she just had.
The bruised, the hurt, and the abused
laid at the feet of death, the sword of pain being used.
It couldn’t get up, it couldn’t move
but still, it had nothing but it’s life to lose.
But the bruised found hope, and stood again.
At least she wouldn’t feel the pain anymore, amen.
The threat of death and of unending pain ceased
And her soul and spirit were released.