New poem - part2815

How to fix this perfect winter day,
when she doesn’t want to instill some love.
For she rather be -

The sad clown in the center ring
     of broken laughter and cotton candy.

But for this hour - she’s hoping, that snow
will sound like breaking glass, wounding
not her but the old snow.

For she does see -

The white words in the snow, mocking her
as all these stark trees, begging the sun
for another around of warmth.

And yet - she is today’s faded snow angel.
Emitting only silence against the silence
of the purple snow that didn’t fall like God.

Hence why -

She wants to hear the glass breaking
while the snow tumbles down like dominoes
in a perfect circle and the first push -

Always - in the jest of a quiet laugh.