My hand is wresting on the bleak window ledge
while I reach out my hand to catch a perfectly molded snowflake
My hand is forcing the flake to thaw
as if there is a burning blaze within me

I look out the square~shaped window
and I only see the pure nature infront me
Trees are dusted by refined flakes
and the grass is covered with a blanket from heaven*

I silently close my windowgate

I glance at The Note on the bedside table
I still feel the touch of the handwritten inkletters
The lines are drawn flawlessly onto the almost crumpled piece of paper
He wrote words of love

*I blow out air on the clear pane of glass
and as the pane absorbs the vapor, a cloudy fog appears
With a gentle motion I write "Dear Love"...
with a hope of him recieving my message