The first frosty wisps of angels floated by

as if to tease me with their intrinsic beauty and

memories of solitude and comfort.

I miss watching the snow melt on your face

as you sip tea and your tongue reaches toward

the heavens to capture each and every flake.

I miss feeling your warmth cuddled outside

wrapped only in each other as winter’s rain

covers us. There is a certain sense of freshness

with each inch of fallen white that covers green.

A time to reflect on harsh realities and deeper

dreams. A time by the fire as wind whips missiles of

ice and cold penetrates your bones. Who will I read

too by candlelight as winter settles in? Who will

listen to the snow falling carried on fairies’s wings to

the earth. I see your grass is not greener, yet pristine is the snow

that falls at home. I see the ocean and feel the sun search

out the cold. I hear the sand, like snow its quiet. I love the

smell of the salt, the feel of the sand, the spirit of the waves, but

there is a joyous serenity and steamy breath as I sip tea and

embrace the solitude of the snow.

Rb