Sound of Snow


Alone again.
More time to know the god within.
Deep snow and solitude,
the popcorn smell of brown rice cooking,
a dark microbrew at the end of the day.

I am missing her,
I am missing the possibility
of her.
She comes and goes throughout my life,
a woman with changing faces,
a heart that knows me better than I know myself.

What is the sound of snow falling in the pines?

Listening to myself I hear the pangs of loneliness.
I devote my time to readying this space
for when it will be filled again.
Maybe someday she will stay.

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Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

One thought on “Sound of Snow”

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