It Was In the Snow
It might have been the wind that blew him in. The windows rattled from the blow. The trees dropped their leaves and swayed to and fro. It had to be the rain that dripped his name, spelling it out in an endless refrain, over and over and over again. It must have been the sun. We were so young. Basking in it's rays those early days. Soaking in it's warmth, it's penetrating heat, when our bodies at first did meet. It was in the snow that I let him go. Blankets of white blurring my sight. A cold, unforgiving heart, choosing to part. Yes, it was in the snow.
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