By Genny Rogers, ’16
Not so much the cold as the silence
made me bend to straighten my stocking
and then your tie.
Young among the bricks of snow,
I looped my arm back with yours
and rubbed my runny nose.
You said something that faded into my hat.
Snowflakes stuck to my woolen mittens
and you stopped to look closely at them.
I took my hands away
and tucked them in my pockets.