December Storms

"Just get home safely..."
she had pleaded
and he had promised

but soon his feet
had grown to heavy
to trudge the snow

and leaving behind him
stains of his life on the ice
red on white (draining slowly)

still savoring
the whiskey that had wet his lips
his frail fingers buried in his pockets

but it was not of his own life
for which he still struggled
but of theirs, a future

still barely knowing
of which that dark alley had held
and how he had fought (still with hopes he had not yet lost)

"Just come home to me..."
I heard her whisper at the window
and I still sat, waiting for his call

it's hard
not to still blame myself
after having departed for home too early (with one drink too many)

and he, still smiling
ignorant of the winter storms
and the shadows that crept among them

and people still claim
to having heard his cries
after having departed for home too late (down one dark alley too many)

they say they found his body frozen
still with a brave face
his bright eyes never doused

and still, a year later
in the dark of December
it's hard not to blame myself

"but you are now a prince among the stars
on which you so longingly gazed"
I whispered
(pouring whiskey on his grave)

and yet, she, still in disbelief for her love, still pleads
"just get home safely...
just come home to me."