What the weather lady said on that Tuesday night
As I sat with chicken noodles perched on my lap,
She warned that the ice would freeze over hell
And the wind would sweep us up in her arms.
As the clock would strike ten, she said
We’d fall in love on the succulent clouds,
Tipping to midnight we’d be gently rained
Down to the lake where the row boat sailed
Like the owl and the pussy cat in the ghastly rhyme
We hoped that we’d reach the shoreline in time.
Life would be simple, she said through the screen,
If we stop looking to a future unknown.
It’s not possible, she said, tapping the glass,
We’re merely just guessing, making up stories
To occupy minds that wander too far
In the hope that we’ll find a love in the snow
And dig in our roots in order to grow.