Fitting

Last night I dreamed of Ireland
even though I've never seen it
and of the ocean mists
so different than the West Coast
but I walked the streets of San Francisco
and still felt lost.

I dressed in summer to fit the
season
sundresses, blonde hair, sunscreen
but I hate the sun and the heat
makes me sick
I walked the shore of a Southern
California beach
and wish it would rain

but in the frost of deep winter
when all the trees have died and I
feel alive from the grey
heavy clouds hanging low on the
horizon
walking along the river's edge, watching children building snowmen
in a valley of trees, under a blanket of white

I put my headphones on-- shake the snow
out of my hair, sit down on a bench
and wait for the moment to come when
I'll hear your voice,
whispers on falling snow.

By Ashley Dodge©