Analysis of Long Afternoon

Snow washed the sun in worn
White cotton and
Covered up the music in my head.
The weak book on the table sat
Wanted like
A scared man's whiskey
Strong in its musty smell,
Beckoning.
A stained light
Pinched through
The window
Danced in my curved hand
And still I couldn't
Sing the word
To catch time
Browned and
Dancing all around me.