I deleted his photos from my laptop.
But it has only made me remember
his face on them clearer and sharper
than before. Yet my memory of him
has become blurry. And what was
so special about him – at all?
I stand at my window in the morning
and see his face for my inner sight –
on those photos, which are no more.
A wind blows hard out there, shakes
unkindly the bare tree crowns, makes
the glass in my window to shiver.
It’s colder, down to freezing point.
Raindrops turns into snowflakes.
A thin layer of snow covers ground.
I assume these memories will fade
with time and leave me in peace –
as memories tend to do. And there
were really nothing in it for me.
I look out my window. More snow
will come! Winter has only begun.