Snow

Blue light angled from the window
and first I see your shadow from the open doorway,
you whisper my name.

You sit on the bed, and touch my cheek.
I can still feel that touch,
as if it happened only a moment ago.

Wrap the blanket around my shoulders,
your hand takes mine,
and I’m lead down the hallway.

More blue light through the white, lace curtains.
you lead me to the window and move aside the lace.
Snow.

We both whisper it, together.
My 7-year-old voice, and your 70-year-old voice,
Snow.

It’s blue in the moonlight,
and drifting, dancing in the wind
as if that moment is for me and for you and only for us.

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