Alone in a phonebox

A young girl stands alone in a phonebox
Alone in snowy Russia
Lipstick frosted like the glass of the window
Her face a white moon in the cold of the night
Alone, in the darkness; lost and unwanted,

Tears frozen to her cheeks
Ice on her eyelashes
She feels so very cold
As the moon shines down on the lonely phone box
She wonders: Should i call?

In her hand a slip of paper; precious memories caught in glorious Technicolour
A smile passes over her blood-red lips
As she remembers the look on his face that night
The sparkle in his icy eyes that night
That night, she did not know what it was like to be alone

The biting wind dances around her
Swirling snow in his icy hands
Cutting of the lonely phonebox
As the girl looks out on a cruel world
Hands numb with the cold

The ice reaching into her heart