Snow

It's the first snowfall of the year, 

and probably the last season I'll ever see.

The sky above is a melancholic shade of grey,

and I have things locked up inside which I probably wouldn't say.

I can understand the plight of the man,

standing in the driveway,

whose car is covered in white.

But I can also feel the joy of the brother,

tossing snowballs at his sister,

and of the ecstasy of the child making a snowman,

carrot for it's nose, beads for it's eyes, 

and a muffler around it's neck,

standing proudly for the people to see and go by.

Snowflakes fall all around me,

as I'm reminded of the battle I have fought,

the one which I have so greatly lost.

The pine stands tall, it's branches laden with snow,

dripping, slipping and disappearing.

Steam rises from the hot cup in my hand,

before quickly disappearing in the crisp winter air.

The warmth from the cup flows inside me,

and I feel safe here,

But it's finally becoming too much to bear.

I extend my hand, 

trying to feel the cold of the snow falling on it,

trying to revive any trace of life which long ago, 

left me.

Life, finding the meaning of which,

led me to places,

falling from which,

removed any traces,

of it inside me.

The lad comes to take me inside,

slowly pushing the chair.

And now I go away from this scene,

because I have things to do and promises to keep,

Before I finally go to sleep.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very nice description of a snowy day and I liked your shared your thoughts also. I like the snowy days when I have no place to go or to be. Thank you Roch for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote