Skies grey and streets painted white from snow,

I sit in a café and my mind wanders

Chasing summer in green country

Escaping from a pale world that whispers of winter

Then it comes down on me like thunder

Like waves crashing on ancient shores

Or winds shrieking across a swift sunrise

A poem

I reach out to catch it

It feels warm in my hands, aching, resilient

An unearthly scribble from another house

A dream where winter's chill may not be

But now I must return from my waking fantasy

To the cold, the café and the snow

But I carry a flower with me, a song of summer

It is a spark in a pale world

Stay with me, friend