Alone in the Snow

The snow falls softly into the impressions where your feet once were.
Erasing your foot prints, your history, your life.
Have you ever stopped and turned around,
looked back at your slowly disappearing trail?
The past is washed away flake by flake.
And if you hesitate for too long, you too
will become a victim of the snow, a victim of time.
So please, turn around and ponder that which is behind you.
But do not cease your present forward motion.
Or else you will become buried by the enormous weight of a thousand weightless snowflakes and become lost forever. Buried by the enormous weight of each simple task you put off until the next day.

Keep moving. Surge ahead. But do not move too quick, or you will be overwhelmed with fatigue and weariness, only to fall behind in the end. If you move to quickly you will sweat and it will freeze, encasing you into a still block of ice. To slowly and the snow will overwhelm you, erasing you from the eyes of the world.


But then again, maybe you want to be lost. Lost for the sole reason to escape the mayhem of the world. Just remember, without another who shares your view, serenity can become quite lonely.

Lonely Bench

Hey girl sitting alone on the park bench reading a book.
You probably didn't notice me, tall, lanky,
awkward kid with glasses and a baseball cap,
black wires going from my pocket to my ears as I listened to Don McLean,
leaning against the giant oak tree twenty feet to your right.
But I noticed you, sitting alone on the brown bench.
How could I miss your sunny brown hair, converse on your feet,
heart drawn on your jeans with black sharpie, and cute smile
every time you read something interesting. But what I especially loved
was the fact that you sat all the way to one side of the bench,, not in the middle.
As if you sat in an open invitation for someone to join you and talk.
I wanted to walk over and sit next you, close but not to close, and point out the beautiful wildflowers lining the fence across the way.
No doubt you in your infinite wisdom already noticed them as they danced with the wind, but it would have been something to smile about together.
I leaned against the ancient oak for song after ancient song until you finally left.
It was only then that I had the courage to sit in the empty seat on that old bench.

Every Saturday since I've sat there, on the far side, leaving your seat open, hoping you would return.

Hoping you had more courage than I.