Snowdrops
I ponder the pronoun.
The lyric the author put down,
circa 1953, is
“While sitting by my window
watching her snowdrops fall.”
The sky’s? The window’s?
or, since Christmas is in the song,
are the snowdrops vibes
from beloved to lover
alone who could be
drinking eggnog with others?
In ‘86 I walked into the Relic Rack,
long and narrow, with vinyl
on the walls, and asked Bruce,
behind the counter,
Play Lonely Christmas?
—Just played it.
A hint of glee in his eyes.
Lonely I wanted to be lonelier.
Eddie Gries came in.
He was making money
off music like that Moonglows,
on Chance 45, out of Chicago,
“Just a Lonely Christmas.”
“Her snowdrops?”
I look out the dark window
at snowdrops falling.
Bruce’s glee, salt in my wound.
.
Stink Eye Magazine 