last night we cut paper snowflakes and hung them over the door. i wore my favorite blue dress. snow falling now. my voice is gone. today i will drink coffee and make christmas presents, watch the snow fall on the firs outside, my paper christmas tree on the wall untouched. i have a paper life, i cut myself, outside my real life moves like a robert frost poem. tomorrow i will wake early and walk to the bus station, speak to children with my gravelly voice. i never sound older than i do now, paper thin.