Crunching snow under my feet,
I like this sound.
I bend reality,
though it is only a trace, illusory.
Frosted branches
have frozen in silence
when the wind will break loose,
they will snap into tiny sticks.
Cold attacks my cheeks.
Only the crunch of footsteps
eases this discomfort,
and the white that still sparkles.
Just a few steps more
and in the flame of a candle
I will melt
into
a tender moment
with you.