From the window
I see snow falling
and that old friend
darkness calling.
Darkness embracing
with its chilling arms
and cold breath
on my neck
and in my dreams.
The snow drifts heavy
and clings to branches
of the tall trees
and white caps
like old maids
or dying giants aged.
I stare and stare
as the whiteness
drifts and falls
and beyond the trees
the darkness
ever the darkness
beckoning to lie
like old soldiers
in Russian winter
just to lie and die
blanketed by snow.
I smoke and watch
the silent drift
splitting the darkness
with a sprinkle of white
to brighten the night.
Some days I want
to drift white and pale
drawn by darkness
into that abyss
and sense on my lips
and brow
that cold cold kiss.