(no subject)
Mar. 30th, 2009 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radfrac_archive_full"I dreamed it snowed," I say, "four, five, six inches deep, everywhere."
I can remember the steep hill and the curved forms of things that have lost their original shapes. The view below, of the intersection and stores, was covered as though it were as tiny as it seems from the window.
"Well, it didn't snow." he says. It's the first really beautiful spring day. The cherry tree is in bloom outside the window.
Our voices fall gently into the air and vanish into half-sleep. What we say is clear, but has no hard edges, requires no response. The room's walls, the bed's sheets, are white, something like a deep cover of snow.
{rf}
I can remember the steep hill and the curved forms of things that have lost their original shapes. The view below, of the intersection and stores, was covered as though it were as tiny as it seems from the window.
"Well, it didn't snow." he says. It's the first really beautiful spring day. The cherry tree is in bloom outside the window.
Our voices fall gently into the air and vanish into half-sleep. What we say is clear, but has no hard edges, requires no response. The room's walls, the bed's sheets, are white, something like a deep cover of snow.
{rf}
