A Writing on the Net SM
Click here for home page

A Touch of Summer in Winter
By Nathaniel Goldberg
Copyright 2000 Nathaniel Goldberg
A poem about the writer's reflections on interacting with a girl named Cassandra.

Near St. Marks Place
Well into a winter's night
I heard a young voice behind me,
I turned.
it was Cassandra, grinning.
"Do I know you?" She asked with
I held out my hand taking hers.
a tiny bird within my fingers
"I'm Nathaniel," I announced nervously
watching her lips,
form words that made no sense.
"Nice to have met you" her voice
was abrupt.
Still dressed in blue spandex
and a necklace of thick beads
that hung between her small
breasts, tiny snow flakes fell about her
kissing her eye lids and the purple
beret tight against her head.
She was smiling.
I wished we sat in a Cafe over on Bleeker or
in that burned out abandoned car
on Third St. and Sixth Ave.
A pumpkin sitting there
waiting to be transformed into a magical
Limo-chariot to take us to the ball.
All I could do was watch
Cassandra disappear
a touch of summer in winter.