13 February 2013
Maybe they called it Nemo because you can't find anyone in it,
A white haze across your vision, numb within a minute.
I'm not sure if my toes are there; I can no longer feel them.
The only way I know I have my fingers's that ' can see them.
Nose? Do I even have one? I can't feel it on my face.
Wipe the frost from glass, it's gone bright red but still in place.
A frantic search with senseless hands; a fumble around the door,
I step inside, feel the rush of warmth. Now I have to walk the dog; Nemo, this is war!
Snowstorm Nemo • Opuss № I