soft, yet cold as it piles up
on the top of the wooden fence
behind the farm house
white as crystal, no imperfections
it sparkles in light, hard for the eyes
but still, i continue to stare
for a moment, I hear a whistle
calling my name from behind the large oaks
I run for you, through the layers of untouched snow
leaving my scarf loosely wrapped around the fence
cautiously I approach you
I ask why you are here
why you have come
but to that you cannot respond
you stand still, arms to your chest
I can see myself in your eyes, deep blue
the light glistening from below
and then you leave
as abruptly as you had come
without further questions
I grab my scarf
and venture into the farm house.