The Snowman

A while ago I had a vivid dream about a snowman. I’m not entirely convinced it was a dream. Some dreams jump around too much and are so ridiculous you just know you’re in a dream. This one was very real, despite the dancing snowman. I decided to write it down and it came out poem-ish. So I gave it a title. Here it is:

The Snowman
I am alone in the comfortable dark.
The balance shifts when the snowman appears.
The infinite quiet transforms into sound and he takes his place beside me.
I try not to look at him but he wants to play.
I do not trust a man made of snow.
His icy flesh will burn my fingers.
If I try to warm him he will melt.
We dance a little but I keep my distance, until it’s time to leave.
I sneak away but with some reluctance.
A small hollow has formed in my breast.

Outside, in the unsettling light, a man passes by.
We look into each other for a period of unmeasured time.
I can see he is lonely and wants something from me.
I want to give him something.
But I remain still, craven.
Protected by my silence.
He moves away.



Snowman picture by Hugh Whyte from art.com (subjects>holidays>Christmas>snowman gallery)