first
the smell of fresh snow and the sky promises of grace.
it is the things undone.
at least for the moment,
because the snow is still untouched.
it snows tomorrow, she thinks.
and it would be an opportunity: go
. go to him.
reinvent themselves all over again - can.
invent "myself. I invent new, "she had said,
almost pleadingly, almost threatening.
"invent myself again!"
the possibility seemed within reach: his
something different, be different
than those they had become.
what is still possible?
a man, a child. a house.
they had set up and used to the ,
what is called standard.
the scent of fresh snow.
and a kiss from is long past time
not long enough ago
to her heart in turmoil and to bring the time
from the rhythm.
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