The calm snow
soft memories melting on my lashes,
while the fall of night stars
drape the sky of wishes.
Before me, flakes pirouette,
flutter and drop.


Frost engraves
ice patterns on the pane;
once, his fingers
would melt against the glass
and trace my name.


Stars shine past horizon’s lip,
winds weave in hushed night.
Alone in winter’s wrap of amethyst,
my cheeks wash with memory’s tears.


On the tree, garland glints,
my eyes are mirrored in silver balls…
moments of him linger.


His echo whispers;
December.