I remember snow:
Soft as feathers,
Sharp as thumbtacks,
Coming down like lint.
And it made you squint
When the wind would blow.
And ice like vinyl on the streets,
Cold as silver, white as sheets,
Rain like strings
And changing things like leaves.

I remember leaves:
Green as spearmint,
Crisp as paper.
I remember trees
Bare as coat racks,
Spread like broken umbrellas.
And parks and bridges
Ponds and zoos,
Ruddy faces, muddy shoes.
Light and noise
And bees and boys
And days.

I remember days, or at least I try,
But as years go by
They're a sort of haze,
And the bluest ink
Isn't really sky.
And at times I think
I would gladly die
For a day of sky.