Thursday, November 29, 2007

MID-SEASON

She felt as if the snow that fell
Burning her pale face
Was a sign from God (if there was one that is)
She hoped so
She told herself it had to be
Yes, a sign of some sort
The dirty gray cement and naked trees would be sporting white clean clothes soon
The ugliness of this mid season would be hidden.
Staring out the bedroom window she watched the transformation
But her heart did not lift
Because she knew the real truth
This kind of beauty was only a facade
Underneath the soft full white snow huddled thousands of dead leaves and
Car windows to be scraped
How fragile she felt
How old
Her fantasies had become guarded, for disappointment felt as if it lingered
Too long now
She ached to regain child-like innocence and wonder
When open mouthed she had laughed and tasted the snow on her tongue
Danced in the flakes beneath the street lights, breath painting clouds above
Her face lit up as she remembered who she used to be
Years ago
Before her own mid season had come

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