i’ve never touched a Snow —
yet of the cold and of the dark
there’s Something — that i know

the — Torture of December
to long to see the Sun
when every Day is — Struggle
not every Day is won

my life has been a Summer
in September — quick and false
like Mayflies on an Apple
or a Leaflet when it falls —

a Sigh against a Window —
a Crash against the Sea —
and once i close the Windows
i will not see to see