Snow on the ground,
snow was in the air,
White hiding pine needle green,
dark shadows
Behind, the frosted queen of snowflakes,
each unique,
play catch, as they are falling,
with your tongue,
slide on your boots through
the slush, and the mush and the fears,
of falling and landing on your embarr***ment,
momentary lapse of maturity, pity, you didn't
do more of it when you were younger,
than today, you would have been better,
instead of wetter when the snow turned
to rain
and you muddled
in a puddle,
absorbing your self pity,
coming up with a witty,
must be climate change, snow wasn't this slippery in my day
                                                            ­                      and away you go,
to change your clothes,
and any excuse to make
some mulled wine, while the
queen of winter waits, fingers
lightly drumming on your window panes,
while you are in the
dark shadows of the kitchen
with white pine
cupboard doors.
Alone.