No heating moments

And no clothes of class;

No jewels, no pearls,

And there are no loud cheers.

There’s no champagne,

No rooftops made of glass.

No sitting to the sound of restless

jazz; - no taste of screaming tears.

The light is cozy on your eyes,

There’s warm palétte and stories.

The stories of the times when we

have met. -

The dissolution of the “I”,

The Renaissance of Spring -

Among the sleeping beauty and

amidst the chaos of the dancing flakes.

The soothing crunch of resting snow,

The glow of smile as you glance over.

The song of melting icicles at dawn,

Arpeggios of their smoothly rolling rings;

The ray of light that’s breaking bravely

through the storm.

That’s how I know -

I’m safe.

And that is how I know -

I’m finally home.