Tower

Tower

We were at the top of the trembling tower,
the wind was as strong as someone blowing out a candle, 
our breath was as thin as the smoke of the wick as it emanated in the cold bitter wind.
The old wooden structure towered over the horizon,
the wind ate away at my face as I tried to hold on to the frosted over handle of the hatch that could free us from our deaths,
as I struggled to open the swollen hatch, no one said a word;
The silence was colder than the wind that still had a hold of me.