There she was, the mysterious brunette in over-sized snow boots whom I had seen on multiple occasions in the very same spot. She awaited her bus under the cover of the train station, which provided no heat, but kept the bitter Chicago wind at bay. Her weight was balanced on one leg, the right one, and her left was a few inches behind, knee bent, the toe of her boot grinding lightly into the ground. She seemed to stare blankly through the iced glass doors that led right out to the bus stop, but her mouth was turned up slightly to form a gentle smile. It couldn't have been a blank stare, she must have been deep in thought, but what did I really know? I knew nothing about her except the color of her hair and impeccable balance. All I knew is that I had to have her. She would be mine to ruin.
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Without realizing it, in a span of four months, I've written to you twice. The first was about rain, and the second was about snow. From September to December, I wrote of wanting to watch different types of weather phenomena with you. I find it strange to want something so mundane. A few drops of rain, a flurry of snowflakes, and the desire to share them with you is unequivocally strong. Some days I'm not even sure what we're doing, why I'm with you, but then I think of the rain, I think of the snow, and then I understand. Water in any form is still water. Even as the seasons change, or my feelings waver, there will always be a cloud.
I want to watch the snow fall
I want the seasons to change I want you to stay even when I question us Hold my hand as I figure out who I am Let me go when I need time I want you to understand me I want you to stay even when I want to go Be there Let me be reckless Wait for me Each day like a snowflake Hopefully leading me back to you I want to watch the snow fall Will you be there too? |
Stories, Poems, and Random Smatterings.Archives
March 2020
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