To lose with grace

Is the only way to win

When

The weather is slow

Morning a still-life gray

A promise of snow

Someone moving away

Then

An unknown face

Looking as simple is sin,

Is a mirror of features longing for shape

Formless as shadows wandering lost

Turning to ice in the night time frost

Covering borders a cold unbroken cape

Like a promise made that does not know

When

To lose with grace

The weather is slow

An unknown face

Is the only way to win

A promise of snow

Then

Morning a still life gray ***