While the Snow Fell by John Tustin

She got into my rented car

And it felt the same.

It felt like the first time she ever sat beside me

As I put the car into drive.

We kissed before we got into the car

And held each other close.

It felt just like all the other times.

We got to my hotel room

And we kibitzed like an old married couple,

A couple that really love each other.

Not a false note.

Not a sour word.

No uncomfortable silence.

I felt like we were married and I had just come back from a business trip.

Two years since we had seen each other

And it may as well have been a week.


Seeing her there in bed,

Hearing her running the faucet in the bathroom

For what seems like forever

And I forget the two years

Where I was nothing and no one,

Waiting for help that never arrived.

The peasant uprising suppressed,

Their ill-equipped army fleeing or dead.

She comes back to bed

And I imagine that our kisses lock us together

And that tomorrow we will be together,

Standing here, sitting there, in front of our families

And our friends, smiling

Even if they are not.

But at this moment

We begin to make love.

It’s starting to rain outside

But we don’t hear anything

But us.

The next afternoon,

I solemnly file onto the airplane


To land again in a place where it always rains

But never snows.

I got home that night

And when I fell asleep,

I dreamed of her

And I dreamed of snow

And I dreamed of us

While the snow fell.

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John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals in the last dozen years. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.