"Again, it's February..."

Again it’s February, and again the snow

Absorbs all colors of the sleeping planet.

And only footprints bare a patch of granite,--

The rest is white and there’s nowhere to go.

The hour and the minute hand combine

And fall in unison upon the number twelve.

I sit behind the desk, all by myself,--

The tired hands cannot complete a line.

The pallid moon bewitches and enchants...

I cannot focus on my poetry. Instead,

I think of you. And next room, in my bed,

You are asleep, and life, again, makes sense.