In short


I do remember the snow,
on the Charles Bridge in Prague,  
how you, to this day still laugh
about something I didn't see, 
and how you wiped the snowflakes
off my shoulder.

How every meaninglessly complicated 
snow crystal stayed behind on 
the cobblestones and worse:
that it wasn't about that.

But about a moment
in which we would be more 
genuinely together-
I don't know If we were then,
and what you saw beyond my vision.

Language falls over miserably in a sentence like:
do you remember when we went to Prague during 
the first snow to stand on the bridge.
And already melts with: we didn't go.