Frost is longing.
I longed for the thaw as soon as I saw
Icy blue eyes and a navy Patagonia
Reflected up from a small square of light.

Longing to see you but settling for bantered texts and drunken facetimes
That only make me long to know you more.

Longing to clasp your neck and pull you to me,
Over a copper table in candlelight.

Longing to collapse twelve days into one
So we can take the next step down a path
Of myriad possibilities.

Frost is two roads not yet contemplated.
We have barely set out.
There will be many chances to diverge,
Each one a "what could have been."
But now there is only one reality -
A fantasy of who I want you to be
Whatever we will be, we will never be this.

Frost is nipping at my nose
With teeth like wintergreen chiclets.
I have eaten roasted chestnuts.
Seduced by the smell,
I am always disappointed by the taste

Yet, ever optimistic, I try again.
And again I come closer
To making fantasy real.
All we can have is close enough.

Frost is on the window.
Scratch with your finger to see through.
Delight in how it rolls under your nails before it melts.