First Snow

Silently, slowly, it crept in to complete
the snow globe illusion - begging Petersburg
to eat its heart out. And St Mary's, with its
frozen lampposts all standing to attention
on the steps down from the Fergusson building,
was putting on a show better than any Narnia
C S Lewis could have conjured up...
But I'm not here to talk about snow.

I ended things with him a week ago;
both of us stood in the cold beneath
the trees. In some parallel world,
it could have been a romantic moment,
cinematic almost... But no. It was
killing me, and I couldn't pretend anymore.

The next day I trudged into town and,
conforming to the rest of the world,
bought a gilet - dark blue with
a grey fur hood. Far, far too expensive,
but I thought the retail therapy
would do me good.

I was wearing it the night all his friends
came down from Butler for a snowball fight
in the Mary's car park. His absence
was so noticeable... He later blamed
an assignment due Monday.
But I knew better.

And now I've returned to my usual haunt -
the benches by the river, just beyond
the cathedral. I pull a cigarette packet
from my gilet pocket and light up. Exhale quietly;
brooding again. I'm doing OK though, you know.
Just feeling a little tired; a little too old for all of this.
The snow falls so slowly - cautiously.
The weather always understands.