you think of the year as you climb down the stairs
all your saccharine dreams and unanswered prayers
'maybe this is the taste of failure' you hear someone say
as you slide through the door and silently slip away
it seems as if something is missing, you are forgetting...
you shiver as the details fade, the wind-chill besetting
the walk to your car, when you notice across the lot
the face of a stranger who brings a wandering thought
she looks like so many girls that you used to know
in her face and her gait, but her prints in the snow
prove that she is real where the others cease to exist
you reach for your keys and some ineffable wish
