Cold Hands Free Heart
- Natércia Godinho
- Apr 30
- 1 min read
The cold grabs my fingers,
but I can pull away anytime.
It feels fresh, a little sharp… alive.
Outside, I can move, breathe, be myself.
At school, it feels different.
Like something holding me too tight,
and my breath gets smaller.
The cold says: “Feel and go.”
The walls say: “Stay.”
So I stay a little longer in the grass—
because this kind of grabbing
lets me be free.
Thea Walsh (10 years old) and Nanny
Comments