The snow falls in silence
Alive like the sleeping lover's dream
delicate like the newborn child
silent, but ever alive, like the practiced clown
skin painted white, as the fallen snow paints the earth
lips painted red as the freshly fallen blood
covered in time, and buried in snow
as the criminal and his moral code
the clown wonders behind his caked on face
if this is where he should be, so loved, but so alone
he powders his lips and wonders, like the young woman ponders behind the snowy window pane
she watches a silhouetted cat leap for a mouse
or was it a butterfly?
she wonders if she should have caught the mouse or the butterfly
the cat jumps from the window
she laughs, lifts a feather pen, and titles a letter to her love
dear... and she has forgotten his name, but somehow, will always remember his face
the face that will always bring a frozen tear from her eye
who knows where this letter will land
maybe in a foreign land, in the hands of a child
or maybe she will find him
but maybe she can forget it someday in the snow
she cuts her finger on the paper
blood drops to stain the snow
she turns and forgets his face, forgets that she is wearing stockings and a black dress
she laughs
the snow turns to rain
a cat meows as he catches a butterfly
she decided to catch a mouse, but changed her mind
she walks away in the rain, dressed in a dress as white as the snow
she chose instead to catch a clown
