Thursday, October 21, 2004

The quiet cease to be heard over the wall of white

When the world stands still, I think it must be snowing.
There are no exceptions to a beautiful day.
Sometimes the sun is shining, but you can't feel it's warmth.
Sometimes the snow is blowing, but you're already numb.
Snow angels just don't seem so sweet anymore, when worry is weighing you down.
Small children hold wishes in the palm of their hands, and then, when the time is right,
they blow with all their might and send the wishes out into the world. Is that snow?
Is it warm inside his hands? Would he mind if I held them, if only to keep warm?
I wish I was the snowflakes that landed on your eyelashes and fell on your cheeks.
I've wanted so long and now all I want to do is fall asleep in the snow; make a pillow out of it's fluffiness, make a blanket to keep warm.
I've been tired for too long.

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