Snow

First snow fell tonight.
And you missed it,
Up north where the probably is
A light dusting already.

Augh!
All my poems have taken a tone
I'm not familular with:
Lovesick.

Even as rain falls
Turning to snow
I can only think of you.
Is this love?
Is it here for a day
Or forever?

Oh,
When will I go back to my old poetry,
Deep thinking on all sorts of
Philosophy?
When will I reclaim my old,
Faceless muse
Instead of one
With clear blue eyes
And entrancing smile?

Will I ever marvel at snow again?