when he finally got out of the pond
the water in his ears and eyes froze
in a matter of seconds, and then
his body slowly lay down on the ice.
she was watching by the window,
wondering when certain things would return
like any color other than white
or tin can telephones
or a new dawn, a new day,
and she wondered would the ice in his head recognize the ice from the pond
and what this meant in the greater scheme of things.
and then there was the ice that was probably in his pockets
the pockets in which she had always placed
those little packs you shake to make them warm,
and she wondered if the postman was coming today.
there was a package she had been waiting for
for an exceptionally long period of time.