When it's snowing, they ask me "quo vadis?"

I don’t like it when it’s snowing because I leave traces so they know where I’m going and they chase me they want to see whether I follow the light or the shadows so I blind them, scratch their eyes out But then they hear me, they hear creaking so I run, I can’t give up that quick I hide behind the leafless trees trying not to breathe My feet hurt from the cold. They want to know my dreams, my lovers and all the secrets hidden behind wardrobes. These monsters creeping from under my bed keep asking “quo vadis?” while I pray for the snow to melt. Winter is chasing me and with it are coming the unanswered questions of sleepless nights: Who are you, where are you going? I stand still, breathless. Waiting for Spring.