I see the faint shadows of towering; trees in the corner,

with the alluring dark, all critters are asleep

only the crunching sound echoes with

my thick wool boots, I can see my breath

when I breathe out.



The white, fluffy, deep snow is making twice

harder to walk.

I have to squint my eyes to see what's in front of me,

as I slowly approach the house,

the old musty smell hit my nostrils,

On the outside, the faint howling of the wind—

sounds like ghosts swarming the city on Halloween.

Old memories rush back like the cobwebs,

linger even aftermath,

I walk further into the house, with each heavy step—

It feels like errors of past: foreshadowing my present,

this house will collapse on top of me at any time.

Isn't where we used to sit together?

An wooden table & matching chairs in the corner,

with sixteen candles; illuminating the whole room,

You're not here,

You'd never meant to be here,

Now, at six-forty five—

My heart is pounding aloud.



I dropped those candles in the frozen wax,

anxious to get out from this place,

I start to walk back to the exit door,

but stopped dead in my tracks.

_______________