She Is Wearing White

I waited patiently at the window

I waited for the sun to tire itself out

For the rains to pass

For the clouds to scatter

I waited for the sharp claw of cold

To grip my little world

And all this time

I made the window

My only work of art.

I waited for her, yes.

One evening she came down

From the clouds

With a bit of white at first

And then some more

She powdered the rooftops and the trees

She tip-toed on the fences

She lay down on the windowsill

And danced before me

With an easy twirl.

She came not just for me, I knew.

She came for everyone:

Beggar and bachelor, married man and rake.

But there was something in her way

That flattered my patience

Made me feel well-rewarded

For having had faith in her.

Yes, she came when she was expected

She did not deceive me this year

I only hope she will stay

A little longer.