The Language of Frost by Bill West
He drifts across frozen fields to the house beside the tarn watches her from the garden as she sits motionless at a Christmas table set for two, her plate untouched. He strokes the window with phantom fingers and in the fractal language of frost he writes “love” on every pane. ###
The Language of Frost won our micro of the year competition. The competition was judged by "The Linnet's Wings" editorial team and the voucher was sponsored by Ramon Collins
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