Snow

 Like the ghost of a memory that still comes around at night to whispers it's secrets in my dreams.
My slumber passes on like the fall of its white silence as the moments gather around me like the lingering shadows of some thing I would no longer need to know but would have sooner forgotten in favor of  just a feel more minutes sleep.
Morning arrives not with some promising dawn but only a white lightness that makes the sky indistinguishable from the ground that is almost as white as it encroaches around my consciousness.  
I go for a walk into the numbing nothingness that is a metaphor for all that is cold and oblique.
I let the chill soak into my bones and wonder again why are there times like this when the weather drives away all my passions like desperate puffs of frozen oxygen mid stride in the road that has become my life. 
Can there be more than this time that I gasp out a few lines searching for some reasoning
in the enormity of my regrets
standing in here in the snow.