it wasn't snowing yet, but they'd told us it would.
probably I said something infantile, about how
I could smell it, the frostiness of snowflakes in the
air, because you smiled that knowing smile of yours,
like you were an adult and i was a child and you
didn't have the heart to take my innocence away.

that look always made my heart smile, sadly, and
it also drove me up a wall, partly because it made
me want to hug you close and pity you the
burden of assumed moral superiority, and whisper
that you, too were a child. but mostly because you
were right— I clung to my naiveté while you, you
had already had the good sense to push it away.
it followed you around with sad puppy eyes, but
you knew it and you kept it at arm's length.
you brave, brave soul.

when it did start to snow I wasn't surprised. you
were. you didn't say anything. we were in
a deserted school hallway, listening, removed
from the other kids' cries. we were
delighted too, but the others wanted to run home
early, and we knew the definition
of home better than they. and I can speak only for
myself but it seemed we both wanted only to stay
forever side by side, tucked away in our corner,
me reveling in the softness of love and friendship
and winter, you trying to be there with me but having
trouble leaving your mind, where that sad-eyed
puppy snapped at your heels. it whimpered
but you held your own.

and slowly, we built up moments like this one.
we wallowed in each other and in the coziness
of cloudy days. we read good poetry and
heard good music and took photographs as we
discussed life from our  softer world.
there were moments of such pure white happiness
that they came full circle to being sad,
simply because I knew I would never be that
happy again, and I was not wrong, and I didn't
want to be. and we had
sad moments, too, never ever think I am not
happy to be sad with you.

and slowly, too, your innocence knew its
defeat, and sat obediently at your feet,
and we shared things.
but I was a child, and a weak one at that, and
God knew I was not as strong as you so she
gave me no great suffering to speak of, to
share with you. no way to reciprocate the
vulnerability you gave, and that in
itself was suffering for me.

I regret that I was not good at saying things.
that while
you had to be your own adult and push childhood
away, I clung hopelessly to mine as
I discovered me and watched it slip
from my small hands.

among the plethora of reasons I can give for
bitterly hating sunny days is the
way the sun slanted through the window and lit
up your eyes and swilled particles around
your face like fairy dust on the day you reached
out and pulled my lanyard over your own neck.
look, you said, content. almost proud.
I'm wearing a bit of you around my
neck, and you wove it through your
sunlit fingers, eyes bright. you tugged on it,
lightly. that's what love does, it strangles
you. and we all want it.

and I gasped at the way that word sounded,
so harsh in such beautiful sunlight on such
a soft face. but I don't want to strangle
you. I said that. thoughtlessly,
instinctively. I regret it every day. in that regard,
you gave me a strength, but it's no german shepherd—
you are so **** strong.

when your ache tugged and tugged at you,
tore you from reality, or brought you closer to it,
it slipped its finger into that lanyard knot. loosened it.
I could have reached out right then, as you had when you
pulled the sun-soaked string over your head, and
tightened it. tightened us. been a friend.

I didn't tug the knot. if you run.
when you run,
I know that two grown dogs
will follow after you, blocked
from the sun by your receding shadow.

Rabbit tracks in the snow
padded foot, here we go:

Found beside a lake,
far away for you to seek.

Festivities of the fastidious,
i was all but oblivious.

Promising frostiness,
the air, alit and aglow.

Bombarding me
quietly
with parallelism,
banging noiselessly
off the fire
of the morning sunshine.

Mollified, the world
stirs in its lack of commotion.

Meek blunders of the fortnight,
i wish to forego.

My star,
faded from the sky.
You are
what brings me high.
I will
be with you,
upon
the epoch of
tomorrow’s
morn, come nigh.

Splendour surrounds with exquisit-ness found
In the coo of a dove and the worm in the ground,
With the look in your eye when you smile at my face
The lift of the brow as penny drops into place.
Exquisit-ness found in the phrases you write
And the softness of shadows when day turns to night,
The touch of your fingertips touching my brow
The wonder engaged when you show me how.
The love of the feeling of being alive
And the buzz of the bee at it's honey filled hive,
The taste of tomato, acidic with bite
And the roar of the laughter when joke telling's right.
The scent of the lavender, colours of rose
And the joy of the tones in a violin's prose,
Pink cheeks in the frostiness, dancing blue eyes
And the look on your face when I spring a surprise.
Hot bacon for breakfast with two poached eggs
And I've swallowed my coffee right down to the dregs.
Such splendour surrounds on this beautiful day
I'm at the top of the world in a wonderful way.

Marshalg
Taranaki bound in an hour or two
27/6/13

i cannot recall
the other in the night realms
always at my side.
oh, dark hours friend,
the sun rises, the fog comes
and the clouds, my foe.
remoteness contained in despair,
how the landscape declares
and commands--
such affection,
such frostiness.
do look out the window, my dear,
and grasp effects
and fly a kite.

The first snow of winter, a most magical time,
when soft, gentle flakes float down from the sky.
They cover the sidewalks with light fluffy snow,
and light on one’s lashes and tickle one’s nose.

When Jack Frost bids eager young children to play,
in the season’s first snowfall, there can be no delay.
For the snowmen are calling, and sleds line the hills,
entreating the little ones, come get your fill.

The air becomes silent, in whiteness surrounds,
while a blanket of frostiness covers the ground.
And sun gleams on snowflakes that light up the sky,
bringing joy to the hearts of each passersby.

In the darkness of night, the quiet still grows,
and each flake brings a peace that the season bestows.
The moon glow reflects off the country gone white,
now heralds a season of wintery delight.

Bring me back and tell me that you were joking when you said,
That all the things we felt for one another are now dead.
The truth is somewhat harsher though, I'm having to admit,
Your loving never lived for me. That's right now isn't it?

So now I look like just another stranger on the street,
And not the man who promised you the earth beneath your feet.

The atmosphere lately was a signal loud and clear,
The frostiness between us, more than just the time of year.
The food of love's gone rotten and everything is wrong,
When you can't even bring yourself to sing our favourite song.

The quake has undermined us both, I can feel the magma heat,
How can I offer now to you, the earth beneath your feet?

Snug in the trance of your solitude,
you whoosh through the silver clouds
like a Sphene meteorite
lighting up a green fluorescent trail,
while the music in your soul
dance to the phantom glow of the stars
that lullaby you on your numinous path.

You came to roost in the frigid dreams
of a callous winter that haunts my soul,
to paint mysterious charms in my yearnings.

Your eloquent kyowks entrance me -
to fly with you
on your pilgrimage
through the silver clouds
to a land beyond the frostiness of this callous winter.