May 11, 2004 22:33
* * * * *
The middle of May, stuck in this dispiriting day,
With unwelcomed snow, falling down ever so slow.
These distracting thoughts of mine seem to be floating too,
But they're hollow and shapeless, and hopelessly askew.
My stare is idle, the snowflakes are suicidal,
If I make no sound, they will make contact with the ground.
The middle of May, my mind in confused disarray,
I watch with simple tears, flakes touch, each of them disappears.
* * * * *