Frosted Snow

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If the night again is snowy

I sometimes look at the bleak white porch

In the middle of the flourish

And the dim of an old rusty lamp

With my eyes closed

Feeling the cold snow perches on my cheeks

And you come again smiling with your sad eyes

Makes me floating and speechless

And I start blaming, and cursing myself

Why am I so dummy, so childish, or so touchy?

Just wondering,

What I ought to do, or what I want to do

Should I pretend that nothing happening?

Or telling you the true ?

The truth is I am still with you

Waiting

In the starless  frigid night

I let my whole body showered by the heavy snow

Shivering, and fall on the ground

Wishing you to pick me up

The art of fiction, Summer afternoon, Fredericksburg, VA, August 9, 2024, 1.10 pm