on a Sunday we walked through a cemetery while it snowed
and the flowers left at Christmas were now frozen on the tombstones.
the snow crunched under our feet and everything else was silent
and I watched a single flake fall and melt on your lip.
we stopped in a brick archway by a fir tree while it snowed
wondering whether to go on or turn back and retrace our steps past
long buried couples and find the warmth in the café around the corner
and while I wondered if I should kiss you you decided to turn back.
when I wonder where you went
I remember the snow melting on your lip like that one moment of chance that
was left frozen with the flowers on tombstones while it snowed.
J.Kenny is a writer and composer working in Berlin. His freelance writing, stories and poems have been featured in publications in Australia, Germany, the UK and the US. Themes of identity and subjectivity feature heavily in his writing. His collaborative soundtrack work has featured in short films and art installations in Germany, Finland, the Netherlands, Japan and South Korea. He plays bass in Berlin punk rock Dead Sentries. Twitter @thejknny.