There is a man outside, walking tall and proud.
I see him through the windowpane
I stranger lost in the endless crowd,
The snow and sleet begins to wane
And he begins to slow
He looks at me through the dusty snow.


I press my hand to the glass, leaving a foggy print
I breathe until the pane is clouded
He leans on the shovel, his tool, and his splint
This boxy house feels crowded
And the world seems so liberated,
It looks wonderful through the snow long awaited.


He is new, a neighbor in the haze
Just moved in last Monday
To shouts of wonder, to great hoorays
And he became lost to me in the fray.
I wonder how he looks behind the layered scarves
I watch his gate and the snow tunnel that he carves

He stops again and waves to me
He actually waved.
I let out a laugh wild and free
It is a memory forever to be saved.
The man outside my window was not a man at all
He was just a sweet boy, gangly and tall.

I asked him his name in a sweet way
He responded shyly, “Larry.”
I told him mine was May.
If ever I’m to marry
And I highly doubt I will
It will be the boy, out my windowsill