It was two things -
they happened both together, at 2 am.
One - it started to snow.
The other - I saw him.
He stood in the middle of the graveyard.
A person I did not know, standing alone -
in a place where others rest till the end of days.
There was no noise around him.
He said nothing.
Silent as the falling snow.
I tried to call out to him, but there was nothing I could say.
When I walked, he followed.
When I stopped, he did the same.
He followed me home.
I watched him from my window -
he stood at the top of the garden path,
looking at my window.
It was 2 am again, but another day -
and on this occasion, only one thing happened.
It started to snow.
I could hear,
on the other side of my closed bedroom curtain,
the silence that only snow can bring.
It was time.
I walked outside, on those streets I knew so well as a child.
Its urban wear and tear covered in a forgiving blanket of white.
My feet made no sound.
From the empty street, I look up at windows of places that I once knew.
There are no more horizons for me -
every language I now understand.