White cotton clumps clung on the tree branches beside
Her new place, in her new life.
The snow had come ˗ again ˗
Just as he had come ˗ the evening before,
With only the words: and so it goes,
And ready for bed ….
Not their long bed at the other place
But a normal length one in this her place
His feet dangling at the base ˗
His lingering arms wrapped round her until she slept ˗
Only woken to the affable aromas:
Of eggs sizzling in the blue porcelain-lined frying pan,
Of rosemary focaccia toast and
Of dark roasted coffee
Hers ˗ with frothy milk in her china cup,
His ˗ black in his bottomless tucked away mug
He reclaimed ˗
From deep in her cupboard….
Just as he had been tucked away deep in her heart,
Until he might come ˗ again –
Just as the march snow.