The Gate Remains Open...

Out of The window
The gate is open

She wonders why
And the
Snow leaves
no evidence of tracks
Or disturbance
For her to follow

She thinks it was perhaps
Jack Frost
Sliding along icicle arcs
spun from his
Frozen Loin Cloth

Or perhaps
It was that albino fox
That does
frequent
And leaves the flowers
Urine soaked
And all bent

It could even be
The Gardener Ghost
That died from frost bite
Whenj he was tending
The roses' in the Mote

But the White Veiled Lady
IN the Window
Does not leave her house
And her nightie is water drenched
which she wears at night
To attone her sins for
mortality's immoral plight

The lady inquestion is actually
dead and waits for eternity
 for her lover to return
And close that gate

But she has been there for 200 years
and this snow we see was created
by the coldness of her wanting and tears