Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
When winter hones the wind to keenest edge,
and creeps upon my skin with sharp intent,
seeps inside my bones to steal resistance,
shivers sensibilities to sealed surrender,
then wrap me in the closest clothes and cloth,
roll me in the fattest folds of furry blanket,
fill my soul with soothing steaming sauces,
and present me tied with central-heated bow.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 10.24.23
Prompt: Write a wrapped-up poem.
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