The snow fell. Soft and white it blanketed the garden. We stepped out with virgin prints, her crutches left damp black holes. Bangs and sizzles, filtered through flakes as large as doilies. She lifted her twisted face, back bent, and smiled into the night. I hugged my son close to my side – tried not to look – the flakes tickled my eyes, made them damp. I mustn’t cry, I cannot cry.
By morning it was if the snow had never been here. The spent firework box remained on the lawn until spring.
Comments
Silver Spun Sand | November 29, 2009 - 00:01
Fireworks in the snow, eh?
You took me there, Juliet, although,somehow, I already was.
Sorry, I forget to mention how very beautiful this is...Snow in mid-November... Extraordinary, as was she.
Tina x
Cavalcaderl | July 23, 2010 - 17:26
new juliet OC
as Silver-Spun-Sand says
a beautiful poem,so sad
in the snow of love.Like an angel.
julie x