First snowfall of winter
Streetlight the only source of light short of the stars in the sky
Trees outside decorated with white loneliness
All of the hall and parlor homes blanketed with kaniktshaq
As the Inuit would say

In the distance, just before the horizon
I beheld her watching me from the window
Where she dwelled in her quaint quarantine
In a place of puritan and straight-laced nature
A vigil of my dilemmas vanishing into smoke

Her Victorian hair preened by her lover- the soldier
Her face wore a delicate smile
An illustration of her youth
Acquisitive and honest
A gentle jewel, genuine and genteel

But I am a gentile
Lace curtain accepted a derelict
Deemed beyond the help
Her purity and warmth could offer
In another lifetime