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It doesn't snow six feet below
May 11, 2014
Early morning, early mourning
I kneeled in front of your grave
Snowflakes kissed my eyelashes
The chill soaked all the way to my bones
I couldn't feel it
I was too busy wondering
If you missed the snow
(I miss you, I miss you)
When it melts, does it
Drip
Drop
Atop your casket
Does it bleed through?
Can you almost taste it?
I’m sure you’re parched
(I’ll bring you water next time instead of roses)
© Lindsey D., Marblehead, MA
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