Snow


The neighbor’s wind-chimes whisper softly,
The rumble of trains I’ve grown accustomed to blocking out,
Offer percussion to the tinkling down the street,
Both sounds breaking the silence of the neighborhood as it’s being blanketed in snow.
I wish I had your body wrapped around me like a blanket.
The warmth of your skin radiating to mine,
The sound of your heart beat,
Coupled with your breathing,
Giving me a soundtrack that goes far beyond wind-chimes and train cars.
I wish we could roll out of bed,
Too early for a Sunday morning,
And sit at the table together,
Sipping coffee and reading the paper.
I wish you were grabbing for the sports section,
Nodding along,
Not really listening to my commentary on the advice column.
I wish I could watch you make omelettes,
Even though I can’t eat them,
Because if you’re making breakfast,
Then you’re finally mine.
The other day I saw a family of snow-people,
And rather than admiring the time that went into creating them,
I wondered if someday I’d have little people to build snowmen with.
The undisturbed powder stretching across the yard,
brings me back to the thoughts of babies and snowmen and snow angels.
I get stuck on the vision of you teaching our daughter how to win the snowball fight against her brother.
And they look like you,
And they’re beautiful.
Beautiful like the snow,
glittering in the streetlight as it falls.

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