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Chilly
Curled in a secluded corner,
tucked away from the eyes
of pedestrians and street vendors
as if she could somehow hide from
the chill that tickled the world.
Rain water collects in puddles
along the sidewalk curbs.
It pours down the narrow alley,
turning bone marrow to ice.
No one was there to determine
the moment the shivering stopped.
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This piece is sandwiched in the middle of my collection on isolation; the bookends of the collection use imagery from nature, while the middle poems, Chilly included, have an urban setting. In my collection, the urban lifestyle is symbolic of oppressive routine and isolation. This poem shows the zenith of the speaker's loneliness, and the consequences it has.