The storm heats up.
Pink petals are raining from the sky
And all I see is snow
Drifting downward,
Smiling in the noiseless air.
Pages scattered in the warm breeze.
I forgot to set a rock atop the stack,
And now they're fluttering like angry leaves,
Desperate in their quest for freedom.
Nothing's changed this season,
But I see my years flash like lightning,
When I stare at the sky,
Black and buckling.
Turn my back to the window,
Glance round corners with a mirror.
The sky's too conflicted
To look at directly.
That stack of paper has my name on each page,
Written in hundreds of different handwritings,
Over and over,
Just meaningless patterns of loops and swirls.
And as I watch,
The pages float silently away,
Into the black night,
Twisting and undulating,
And falling like snow in the noiseless air.
