and then there was snow
white, beautiful and glistening,
and i wanted to taste it in my mouth,
smooth, porcelain.
"it never snows around here," he said
he did not notice the reservoirs like dimples
and i was too impressed with him to reply.
every now and then i see it.
when he came knocking on the door
i opened it for him and a shivering wind came looking for shelter;
it was snowing then, full of miracles and an eager child
who has never seen such sight.
it's the inevitable contrast of his personality
like black coffee, please.
and his bright lights that shine like the city
around the irises of his eyes.
but when it snows it only makes sense
to adorn the snowflakes that dance,
outlining the rounded edges of his slender face.
(c)2004 mai kozai
silence is also music. {2:09 PM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
