Copyright Steven Carpenter 2009
Christmas Eve Snow
Snow falls gently
light, fluffy, pure.
The flakes look at home in your hair.
Air puffs from you lips,
then fades like half remembered dreams.
Your cheeks, red from the cold,
burn with life.
The soft crinch-crunch of snow
under your boots is echoed by
the muffled reply of the wind.
Behind us our tracks slowly fill with snow
concealing our passing.
In an hour no one will know we
have disturbed this ground.
Quite, peaceful, serene, this place
belongs to us…for now, to our
memories forever.
You walk on, eyes wide at the
wonder of this place.
I walk, a pace or two behind, eyes wide
at the wonder of you.
Pangean Poetry 