It’s the February sun glowing in the last icicle
on the roof. It’s the blind girl, whose voice
is so beautiful birds gather on branches
near her window for a sing-a-long .
It’s that balmy night when we were young
when the roses found a violin to play.
It’s a giant eraser rubbing out mistakes.
It’s your first train ride, the last midnight swim
of the year. For every day you love, a snowflake
melts on your cheek, and every night a star trembles
over the town, keeping watch as you sleep
children safe in their beds, mice nibbling in the dark.