what it wasn't

the snow was beautiful in

a heartbroken

kind of way.

how it lay

before us, rising in soft

hands against

the long stretch

of road

nearly covered

and we

weren't half way home,

her home.

not mine.

how the trees

grew in size,

shrouded white.

the sky low and grey

smoothed

over a far away sun.

were there better days

than this?

of course, but

this one would be 

remembered

for what it was,

what it wasn't.