Ivory Falling

Falling without color.

 Like flakes from a grey sky

my thoughts fall on frozen ground
intricate and beautiful in the air
falling, falling, lightly falling
forever
falling

My days are white with falling
bland as water on my tongue
the color without color
my cloak, my home, my life

I am cold in the midday sun
I am cold before the hearth
The bread of oven shines gold
in my tired pallid hand

I see ghosts in the mirror
and when I close my eyes
they speak in ashen images
shades of narrow memory
beyond my feeble touch

I live with them
as they live with me
in a white house
and a white yard
my sky is wan
my sun is pale

my brook blanched bloodless

Time moves not in ticks
of watch or clock
but in the ivory falling
just falling
day and night