while I rock in squeaky rhythm
here in this quiet little room,
the rain gently begins to flake...

and drift like a thousand tiny feathers
slowly, haphazardly, to the ground.

it will pull a blanket of silence behind it.

it will smother the sound of winter in
it's icy and velvet shawl, lain around
the shoulders of a lonely night as I
await the arrival of she who has my heart.

the chill of it's beauty, the snow, still in it's
infancy as it begins to layer flake upon flake,
sends time into slow motion, and the mind wanders,
and searches for an ember of warmth to fill the spaces
left within the quiet of waiting...

and I try to contain my imagination
to thoughts of spring.