The first time I saw a snowfall was from the hospital window.
It was a miserable winter.
A coma carried you into a different climate.
I paused near you for years, but the bitter winter formed a white coffin around your mattress.
Guests were arriving, with a bouquet of wildflowers and sad faces, silent wishes, hopeless sensations.
I watched them with my ghostly eyes while taking my coffee by the window, drawing Illustrations of tears.
The snowfall was hard on me. You are moving, chatting with me, I felt your noise inside my heart beloved, leave me alone, I existed in a storm all my life.
Peace required me, a garden of butterflies formed for me, and I must go alone.
I have to be in a cocoon of birth before my new transformation.