Imaginary

I heard, soft pounds of shoes on white blanketed ground,
and the crunch of crystals underfoot.
I saw a  bronze man,
looking towards the sky with his gun pointed down,
eyes glazed over.
The cold stone told he was a memory,
a reminder to all those who were, and were to be.
I huffed warm breath into my collar,
rubbed  hands on numb thighs with brisk short strokes.
Triangle, you sit in this frozen park,
pointed with all your names of the dead.
I jumped, startled by the sound of footsteps,
and the flags bumped and flapped.
I was ridiculous,
a small girl,
frozen, and startled by imaginary bears, imaginary men.