the first winter to
the first winter to
start without you
hangs around at the
bottom of the
stoop, loiters
like a lost
lover, lingers like
the last note of
a new kind of
music, sticks
around like the
final clump of
snow, trails like
a loss for words
.
20110210:2156
y
y 
This is an interesting reflection on mourning. I enjoyed the flow. You have been on a good roll!
thank you. it gives me a mixed feeling…