The Gentle Touch of Fresh Fallen Snow

climbing the stairs carefully
quietly one step at a timefresh snowfall
knowing two stairs would be
sooner, but  screaky noisy

holding back giggles and glee
wanting to shriek in elation
but stealth still held to import
not to startle the bleak darkness

a handful of snow dripping
marking the following trace
hinting the cold wet falling
in measure severe and white

the single swift move disturbs
a raucous bottomless snoring
scattering warmhearted dreams
into abrupt murky daybreak

“Damn you bastard I’m fucking
wet you revolting little son of…
I’ll kill you and drag your sorry
ass out into the snow, you…”

the words clanging the hallway
following the fleeing laughter
through the doorway and back
across the field of fresh fallen snow

The Gentle Touch of Fresh Fallen Snow

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