I came in through the snow, my footsteps quickly fading.
I saw, on my way, that old tree leaning, dusted,
paling, and our initials carved were covered only
barely.
I brushed aside the white so you'd remember.
I listened for the solo note of frost finch floating
so I could follow.
I found the door with message
thawing in the dawn
but made it out. I waited among the elms
and all of nival ilk. I waited long
and worried you were lost.
I should not have left. I circled the vast
and colorless expanse, returned
and knocked to no response. I, then,
with one finger, traced words into the sleek freeze
on window and left again,
the cold gnathic aching blowing
as if predicting death.
I could feel your absence. I let my heart beat widowed,
just to know it. I turned against
the wind,
its blast all that broke the terrifying muteness
of the land.
I needed joy.
I needed you.
I stopped and stood alone
in this somber
silence
and watched the eerie
powder snow gently take out canvas.
I worried you'd forgotten where we were to meet,
where I met you last, four seasons past.
I planned calendar year around
return.
I memorized your face, this place, but not your meaning.
I held the heat and lied. I met you in mess of romance.
I observed your wounds with my hands. I placed yours
where mine were matching.
I came back in winter,
came in pitch black night in bleak of chill,
needing fire.
I will kiss you alive when I find you.
I have arrived.
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