Hold me

There is wet grass in between my toes
Flattened beneath the creases of my underfoot.
I am standing in long pyjama trousers,
Around my ankles
I can feel the cold wet material
Where the bottoms have been soaked
By morning dew.
My tshirt is thin
Allowing the freezing morning wind
To blow through skin, blood and bones
Shrinking my pores
Numbing my senses.
I am safe.
Nothing can touch me here.
The Beacons are holding me.

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