Umbrella

Outside the window,

snow falls.

White on green grass.

Green encrusted with white.

It falls,

soft cotton like plumage.

Covers the tarmac,

the wooden rooftops.

Beyond the pine covered mountains,

stands a chapel.

A bell

chimes.

Echoing

through the valley.

Snow thickening,

Standing,

leaning against the

window,

without  batting an

eyelash

she

is silent,

listening to the changing notes of chimes,

seeing the ballet of snow

and pine leaves.

Its twilight,

forever twilight here,

like in a Grimm tale.

A glass of wine in her left hand,

twilight,

snow,

bells.

A knock on her door,

snowfall is hailstorm,

the pine trees come rushing

like an avalanche.

She doesn't turn,

wine turns from red to magenta,

the glass tilts,

coloring the snow below the window.

The avalanche nears,

twilight

turns to

dawn.

She wakes up

in an London hospital,

a patient,

hope had long left.