Who threw the first snowball?
White packing snow flying across,
Av des Pins O and Rue University,
to where we felt wise and so wicked.

Taken by the purity of being young,
naive and valued far more than lost,
to another grace and kind phrase.
I love my friends and hold them dear.

Montreal you project myself too fondly,
involved in culture, rhythms, and sweet language.
and grainy film on knit sleeves in February's dread.
With a bright smile written in cursive letters.