Feigning Flurries

The snow flurries fiercely swirl through the air
against night's dark canvas, creating a mystical array
and stab at Maime’s face like icicles shot from a bow.

Stumbling in the night from the bar, filled up with booze
her fragile frame follows this path along the water’s edge.
She trusts it each night, to lead her to safety, to home.

Something strange was lingering tonight, it sang its song;
through branches, through leaves, through the harsh breeze.
The cold air stings at her lungs, creating a difficulty to breathe.

The wind blows as the old woman falls into the river’s flow.
She cries out, but distant from all life, no one can hear.
With all her strength she struggles to escape, in deep fear.

In breath’s last moments, all she has to cling to is memory;
but even that stings harsher than the cold of the waters,
All she could recall through life, love; it all was mimicry.