Drunk on cheap red Gallo,
they quarreled half the night,
accusations flying like angry
wasps stinging old wounds.
Outside, snow sprinkled down,
dusting the world clean and white.
She ran out, threw herself down
in the light powder to carve snow-angels.
Soft snowflakes melted all resentment
and rage lingering there on her tongue.
“I write to capture indelible moments in time.” – the writer