8.54

The cold, white sheets fall lightly

like little kisses on the forehead

in the darkness, then white, then dark

as the lamppost awakens the air.

For a brief instant to dance like a

bride and her dark-clad groom.

"We are alive, falling for a blink,"

she winks

in my direction, with the playful

grin of the best kept secret

holder. The air swirls around.

Hands too cold to know they are

being held, ears too numb to really hear.

And the feet are like weightless

extensions allowing me to hover

across the ground.

"I could never fall if I'm floating,"

I quip with the airy happiness

of a snowflake.