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It's 1am
And I'm wandering these old streets
   of lower Manhattan
The gentle snow is cascading down
Each flake is reflected
   in the yellow light of the lampost
I walk on the snow covered
   cobble stone roads
I see the whiteness forever
   settling on the red brick buildings
   bordering these street labyrinths

It's cold in the air
   I can see my breath
But all around
   I feel warm
The snow falls on my hair
   Covers my jacket
   And lays upon my soft lips

Every where I look
   Snow falls in patterns of joy
   In a hurry to fall and land
They land on window sills
   And on parked cars
   Even on dogs walking by
They land on my feet
   And on my ears
   Even on the space between my upper lip and nose

I see all this beautiful snow
It blankets the city down
And I smile
   How could I not think of you
   When I see such beauty in this world?

 2000 David Greg Harth