February by Terryn Rutford

It is February
and they are telling me
the snow is just getting started

she loves me
even with her eyes closed
I know, I could tell

I used to call it the black wall
because no one should have seen

there were so many stories
I thought I understood
newspapers only cover the worthy news
is that still considered news?

snow does not fall in August
but it felt that cold
a phone line between us

I think she loved me even then
her tears falling on the stand
in a courtroom
mine on a pavement
outside a sanctuary

it was six months later
in February
when we remembered
time would have told two years
if the door did not swing both ways

then the snow was thick on a frozen ground
when we explored
we had to skirt the mounds

if I lived by those times
I would not have survived

these nights only get colder
even as the February nights grow shorter
but I guess it does not matter
when it ends
weather follows no honest schedule

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