I stare outside our window to see smooth white snow
gathering on the lawn, all life has stopped,
cars have stalled, too cold for people, animals – and
even birds cannot fly.
Frost accumulates on a window pane
I etch your name, once again I am a child drawing a
funny face – once again without a care – as if I were five
and soon would beg to dress to build a snowman or beg
for you to take the sled down from the hook in the garage.
At five I would slide across the ice, and bury myself in snow.
Life came to a stand still – no cars passed on the street,
they too are inside staring at snowflakes elunminating the
night – one on top of one. Each different in shape and size.
I listened to breaking news – thirty inches more – due.
I touched my stomach –
Now I suddenly knew, and prayed that it is not your time
to enter this world, as I kept rubbing my belly.
You were so perfect in my imagination, a child who
one day would draw pictures with a finger on frost.
Snow is falling faster – obscuring my vision,
and our yard disappeared.