I dreamt we met in verses once again. <br />The mood was Lithuanian as yourself. <br />Our convesation was in pen and ink, <br />Outdated as a winter aeorgramme. <br /> <br />You wrote me notes upon the stems of flowers, <br />Then told me to destroy your poor scribbles. <br />Snow to the eaves could still bring Wednesday back, <br />Though time itself was quite irrelevant. <br /> <br />I woke this morning feeling reassured, <br />To see my Yiddish name upon the pane. <br />Rare as a single snowflake is that bond, <br />That lights old souls beyond all winterness.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-winter-aeorgramme/
