Poem -



it doesn't snow here often,
and, when it does, it's quite an occasion,
I remember the last time it snowed.
I sat on the porch watching them fall,
one by one, out of the gray night sky,
Piling up in thin, sickly drifts.
Bundled up in layers of layers,
I watched them silently.
The whole world went still as they fell.
Nothing more important than them,
each unique, each their own.
Not perfect snowflakes,
but rather puffy balls of cotton fleece,
melting almost immediately on the ground.
I think she would've liked it.
She wouldn't have cared how high the drifts piles,
how thin the layer that stuck,
how soft the snow was or wasn't,
the fact it was more slush than snow.
She would have ran out into it,
leaping and laughing,
trying to catch them.
She could be too cute when she wasn't careful.
I would've waited for her to get cold,
before handing her the jacket,
the one she would have invariably forgotten inside.
I would grumble at her, and she would just laugh,
before making me smile with a quick kiss,
before running out into the snow again.
I could almost hear her laughing happily in the dark.
And, in the darkness,
another silver something found its way to the ground.

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Cherie Sumner-Taylor

I'm sure she would too.....and that is a beautiful thought.  Keep a smile for her, D....She would want that experience with you looking at the snow if she could...I am sure.  ;)

Dmitri Rudder

I hope you know Cherie, I have to thank you for what You've done. Thank you for being here. I have so much to tell the world. No one knew her in life. It is my job to show people who she really was.