A third floor window, they watched the snow,
Music soft from an old radio.
Their daytime outing, true and sincere,
A chance mountain storm, they happened here,
Neither stove nor refrigerator,
Fruit for now, and coffee for later.
The door was latched, to keep the night out.
Dark lacquered oak, both sturdy and stout.
Small room was heated by central steam,
Clean and more quiet than it might seem.
A couch, large in an overstuffed way.
Shared conversation, a lot to say.
The ceiling low, walls plaster and wood.
The weather was bad, the outlook was good.
A third floor window, they watched the snow.
How long could it last? They did not know.
M.T. Jamieson lives with his wife, Susan, and their dog and two cats in northeastern Ohio. He is a Viet Nam Era U.S.A.F. veteran, and twice a former university student. Some of his poems have appeared in “WestWard Quarterly”, “Pancakes In Heaven”, “Northern Stars Magazine”, “The Poet’s Art”, “The Poetry Explosion Newsletter”. “the Lyric”, and “Adelaide Literary Magazine”. “Evening Street Press” and “The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review” have accepted pieces for publication.