July 14

If this were the last snowfall,
No more halos on evergreens;
If this were my last glimpse of winter,
What would these eyes see?

If this were the last slow curling
Of your fingers in my palm;
If this were the last I felt you breathing,
How would I carry on?

This is not the last snowfall,
Not our last embrace.
But if I were that kind of grateful,
What would I try to say?