by Donna Burgess

Created on: February 01, 2009

After The Snow

After the snow

The designer loafers became

Nothing more than containers

For your toes

As they turned black and fell off.

After the snow

The expensive purse was a bag

For the remains of loved ones

Fallen to bits already

Who needs snapshots anymore?

After the snow

The morning beauty ritual

Became a time to repair and replace

Scalp, skin, nails

With dots of crazy glue and a brush of rubber cement.

After the snow

The cities were mercifully less crowded

The traffic sparse

Those left weren't the social animals

They once were.

After the snow

Sleep became a little death

Mind wanderings

To light and hope

And a time for rapid decay.

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