silhouette rose leaves sandwiched between
flimsy gray curtain and stolid gray sky
the window's a warden the walls are a lie
a monday so alone even the snow refuses to stay
even the snow has somewhere to go
tiny flakes hurrying after buses and trains
no time to settle on a spectating rose,
an out-of-place vestige of vernal vivacity
pressed against heartlessly innocent panes,
watching the endless flakes flurry,
filling the sky to capacity.
with tiny snow briefcases, they bustle away:
gotta be in london by tonight.
got to be on your way.
freezing and melting and freezing and melting
before
you
evaporate.