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FURCADIA WINTERFEST '10

Snowflower Falling

Summer fell and fall's behind, winter's winding in with a cold wind. I've found I'm looking for you. Silhouettes, shadows in the snow leaving frozen tracks; oh, where'd you go? Three words are haunting me, unsaid, bursting to be free for only thee.

Do you remember when we were children, sometime way back when? I was walking alone in the snow, with nowhere to go. You were sitting beneath the snow-flower tree, looking a little fragile. Wrapped up in a violet scarf and warming your hands with crystallized breaths. It's hard to remember the rest, but I recall setting my paw upon your side and saying, "Hey, walk with me - let's be friends."

Not an hour went by, those winter nights, that we weren't side-by-side and leaving our tracks in the snow with a "crunch-crunch" and a "piff-paff." Sometimes, you had to go. And I'd sit beneath the snow-flower tree, humming. Fell asleep, but what a sight to see when I woke again; my friend! There you'd be, prodding me with a stick and giggling when I made a swipe for it.

Winter went by, and the snow-flowers began to die. I picked one and set it in your hair, three words bursting to be free; I struggled simply to say but found others in their way: "Come next year?" You left, I watched you go with a sad smile and a waving tail; this was together, our tale. Seeing you leave stole away my grin.

Spring came, melting snow away. Each sunrise and sunset, I was curled up under the same tree with an unspoken plea, "Snow-flowers, please, bloom." Here today, too, watching snow-white petals fall like angels cast out of the sky.

Summer fell and fall's behind, winter came winding in again with a cold wind. You found me, waiting by the tree that kept our memories. Oh, that happiness was an unnatural bliss. The cold was no bother, scarcely even a chill whenever I could get you to giggle. I just wish we could have been there longer. Together we ran and danced in the snowfall. Silhouettes, shadows in the snow leaving frozen tracks; oh, where'd you go? Three words I burned to say, haunting me, unsaid; bursting to be free for only thee.

Those years became my treasures, a waking dream with three words I yearned to scream. I watched you change as they went by, seeing each other just one season a year. I'd wait them out without fear, seeing you come again; different every time but smiling all the same.

No one else could be compared to you. In the spring, I'd sleep amidst gold-flower meadows until a villager shouted me away; waving his pitchfork and threatening me until I went on my way. During the summer, I'd steal off with a fruit or two. Playing in the river, mothers would tell their children to flee from me, horridly. In autumn, I was alone and watching the leaves wither up and rain shades of orange and sanguine.

Who would rest my head in their lap, or tell me stories while we munched on cashews? Who sang to the moon, sad to go home so soon? You, who I gave that snow-flower to. Three words were haunting me, unsaid; bursting to be free for only thee.

Along a year came, after summer had fallen and fall was behind; you showed up with your hair cropped up and hidden beneath a red wool cap. When I asked what was wrong, you smiled and wouldn't say. We played amidst the snowfall, and I saw how easily you were exhausted. I felt again the need to say those words, worlds away yet fought to be brought out for you. Again, instead, I was afraid and found them waylaid, "Come back tomorrow?"

You came every day, even on the last day of winter when the snow-flowers were dying. One remained. I climbed up and caught it, setting it in your lap while you rested among falling white petals; a final snowfall. We slept, but when I woke you weren't there and I confess that I wept.

Spring bloomed and I thought only to find you. The meadows wouldn't show their flowers, for the season was dry. It felt like I could cry. I ran fast after the way I saw you went, every night that you needed to leave. Summer burned, the sky tasted like cinders of ash and no children played in the cracked riverbed. With autumn, I was alone and watching the leaves racked up by villagers to burn. When the winter arrived, I waited beneath the snow-flower tree.

Every night, I waited.

Even, tonight.

I was terrified; never did a winter go without you. Nothing seemed right, nothing was the same. No silhouettes, but mine; shadows in the fog but no frozen tracks left in the snow. Oh, where'd you go? When spring arrived, I'd yet to see you. I was scared of what that could mean. Answers to be seen, I had to know so went to the village below.

Of stone and wood, painted white with red-shingled roofs; I marveled at such a prison this place seemed to be. The villagers hid behind their doors, shutting their shutters and quelling all curious kittens. I met an elderly furre, a goat with a great beard and black eyes who held a farmer's scythe. He alone stood in the street, looking at me. I approached and sat before him, waving my tails, "Hey, walk with me - let's be friends?"

He shook his head and said instead, nobody befriended him; for he was what ended them. I felt my ears drop, so I inquired rather, "I'm looking for a friend, and she used to leave tracks in the snow; where did they go?"

His expression softened and he pointed the way, his withered black robe dancing in the wind.

My journey took me between gates wrought of black iron, where sat hundreds of stones. I found your name and curled up; wishing I knew the meaning of letters three that they carved into a rock for you. You weren't here, but I could tell you were too. Oh, I waited thinking maybe you were a bit late. The old furre came for a moment and sat with me, but I told him I wouldn't leave until you surfaced.

Summer fell and fall's behind, winter wound its way in with a cold wind. I found you, but knew you wanted to see the snow-flower tree. With me, I brought a seed and set it behind the rock you slept beneath. The years went by; I watched it grow and waited to show you. When again we could play, there was just something I wanted to say...

"I love you."