Parachutes

Written by: James Fredholm

I sit before my snow framed window, 
watching thick flakes drop from the dark sky,
parachutes that disappear into the calm white sea below me.

The light is fading framing a reflection,
I see myself glazing, still like a photograph,
inside, I drift back to the watery place by the Black Sea.

I can’t remember that moment in detail,
when I crashed through the surface and into this blue
wash of emotion which has charged me magnetically.

The snow has receded and the sky is now dark.
But the time just stands still as I relive those thoughts,
gathering strength with my will to reinstate through alchemy.

In the distance my senses are stirring again.
Steadily, they come closer, I hear them whisper to me,
“drift back to the surface and let go, its just a memory”.