AFTER IT SNOWED DURING THE NIGHT

The morning's cold

makes me shiver; emerging

in the faint light

blue-tinged snow knee-high,

bitter memories,

sharp like razor-blades

cutting the mind

that knows them.

What lies under

the snow can't rise with the spring,

that which past laid to repose

can never rest in the mind

that remembers; the

past lies with the beloved faces

in a reality beyond years,

beyond the coming and going

of snow and leaves and grass,

bound to the mind

which remembers

and shivers in the cold

of the winter morning.

16.01.2019