longingly

the final flake falls softly
like an umlaut in a language
other than German

four frozen fingers search
with their boon companion, the thumb, for
a lost key to the door in your mind

that's been locked for a thousand years
filled with red-eyed, white rabbits
the size of hair salons

under this blanket of white
we are all doomed to happiness
we are all blessed with anguish

Comments

  1. CatnipDecember 21, 2007 at 7:54 PM

    OK, let me just say, since no one else has commented, that this is a cool poem. I assume Riley wrote it, but it's cool either way.

    ReplyDelete
  2. BugJanuary 3, 2008 at 1:02 AM

    I concur.

    ReplyDelete

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