Last I saw you, Snowflakes were melting in your lashes, Rolling down your face as if they were your tears. Before freezing in the trap set by your words. There they were, in the frozen drops, many reflections: Of me... of the cat... and of the window by the tiers.
You came in with the blue smell of the sea, Of a sea not yet frozen but covered with snow. Your head was in a cloud, as it still is, A cloud cold to the touch, And in the wind, dispersing. It was the halo of your mane. That looked soft but was deceiving.
Me, myself, and I are warm now, With my pressed flowers, Dry by the hearth. The reflections are in the flames now, Not in tears. The orange glow of the pages past illuminate a new future, And the boat in the blizzard houses my heart no more.