He has learned to mourn looking skyward

Laying down keeps the taste of her tears from his lips

The night blankets without any warmth

The powder soft snow drinks his grief

The cold…

the only thing that reminds him he is alive

Helplessly searching amongst the stars

for some place out of reach

Far beyond the naked branches

where even the maples have cried themselves to sleep

The snow flakes drift like angels weeping

A powder soft patchwork

where

dreams

slow

to

dreaming