POTPOURRI AND OTHER RANK ESOTERICA

Snow Melt

It's silent.
I believed it when she said the silence was deafening.
I sit and listen to the silence of the snow-melt.

I hear her in the distance, ticking like a clock,
creating time in the next room.
Depressing.
Time makes her younger and me older.

I crouch in the snow, watching it melt.
I dread the cold,
but I groan with the heat.
The edge of heated cold approaches.
I don't belong here.