Where the nights are numb, and the ground frosted,
Where the ocean lies still and quietly.
Upon that abyss, there it riposted,
A reflection of refracted beauty.
A blush of colors painting the sky,
A wave that rippled of untold stories.
As if the Earth let out a gentle sigh,
In its longing wake to show its glory.
In this velvety night, we lie and watch,
And flush our thoughts and soak it in.
An experience that cannot be bought,
To wash over us and begin again.
That night we shared in loving memory.
That night we were in perfect harmony.

On a cold, bitter Christmas Eve, I wandered down an unknown path and at its end sat a small, isolated tree; it's branches – leafless and frosted with ice – shimmered and twinkled in the moonlight.

From that tree fell a frozen tear that shattered into a million pieces against the snow, concurrently with the resonating ring of a bell in my ears.

As tears rolled down my cheek, I whispered,

"I am too..."