The clouds gently pull
nightâs shade down,
leaving only ebony snowflakes
as a remembrance
of the light.
I stand waitingâŠ
waiting for the touch
of memories
that softly stir within
like a flake of snow,
more seen than felt.
I remember that each
snowflake is unique and
wonder why my memories
are always the same.
I waitâŠ
on the very spot
you returned to me.
Washed up, a grotesque
reminder of what you were,
a victim not a person any longer.
Perhaps I come here each year
to remind myself you are gone.
Like the black snow around me,
your memory touches
but quickly meltsâŠ
leaving no taste, no warmth,
no trace ...
... only a hint of liquid sadness
which slowly trails down my
cheekâŠ
⊠and freezes as it reaches
my heart.
An entry for "Shadows and Light Poetry Contest"
Line Count: 32
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