A Story of Walking Along in the Snow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Maybe someday.

Submitted: December 06, 2013

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Submitted: December 06, 2013

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The half-light burns, tearing through town
leading me into the doorway in which you stand.
Looking down on me from your front stoop
you shake you head, and close it again.
Laughing, you say, "just joking love!"
opening your door, letting me in from the snow.
With a flourish of your arms, You wave me in
I follow, taking your hand as I pass.
I shield what I've got, not letting you see
Pulling my hand from my pocket, I drop to one knee.
"No jokes this time, I want you forever
be mine, my love, and I'll never be better."
Crying, you nod, not saying a thing
I take my gift, sliding it on your hand.
Finally you speak, saying softly, and only
"So where will we move dear, to your house or mine?"
We pack up your stuff, the few things and only
what deemed important to be brought that night.
Your clothes and your art, music and paintings
Without letting people intrude on our joy.
Back through the city, we retrace my path
the snow filling the space between sidewalk cracks.
Up to my doorstep, it's my turn this time
I wave you inside, knowing this walk has been sublime.


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