Poetry, Decembering

Snow-writing

Fat logs crackled

as we ate a little,

drank in each others’ warmth

till closing time,

filling in the missing months

and drawing close again.

White snow spread crisp

underfoot, a smooth white page

for recording our names.

Children left their games

and wrinkled their noses to see

us on the kissing roundabout

Such a cold day to sell

pet rabbits, pink noses,

wet toes, and my hand

in your pocket. Time running

out with the snow-light

and frozen breath between us

Then we found a private place

with pigeons only to observe

us wrapped in deep discussion,

too cold to explore all the bare facts

examine things from every angle

and reach mutual understanding

Before the reluctant train

took you from me, severing

our communication cord,

leaving me lonely on the platform

with whatever remains after the

snow-writing has disappeared.