The winter wind
chills my skin
it is a memory
of your eyes
piercing to the bone
like a hawk in flight.
I would cross
the barren snow
to find my way
to you if you
would wait for me,
ever drifting
away within the mist.
A phantom of love
haunting me,
but on the darkest
night your hands,
your lips,
the words like air
woven into my hair,
are my warmth
keeping me a
Winter Rites
chills my skin
it is a memory
of your eyes
piercing to the bone
like a hawk in flight.
I would cross
the barren snow
to find my way
to you if you
would wait for me,
ever drifting
away within the mist.
A phantom of love
haunting me,
but on the darkest
night your hands,
your lips,
the words like air
woven into my hair,
are my warmth
keeping me a
