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Snow

The frenzied flakes rage outside.
I open the window and invite them in,
Swirling flakes of pure white
Like down feathers in a cyclone.

At once, I am Cathy
And somewhere is Heathcliff,
And my body is like the moors,
And my mind an unknown phantom.

Muscles tensed against the wind
I struggle to shut the window,
And it becomes no more
Than cold confetti behind the glass.

Interview went well and I told my other boss. Now they are really pressuring me to stay even if I get offered the position, which I think is a good possibility. I don't know. I have a lot of thinking to do over the next week...

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
ladyoracle
Feb. 17th, 2004 08:50 pm (UTC)
I appreciate your poem, thanks for sharing it! I didn't know you do creative writing.
gilathief
Feb. 17th, 2004 09:01 pm (UTC)
Re:
I do, but mainly just for myself.

I know a lot of amazingly talented writers of both prose andpoetry and I know my stuff is not nearly as good but it is a fun hobby!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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