traverses through blue shadows;
with woven threads of nouns and verbs.
Words are an endless stream of emotion,
you hold within your hands
water drawn from the depths of your soul.
Snowflakes colour your eyes
with dreams and reflections
sketched upon a winter's evening sky.
slip through streeetlamps
the wind follows you
through conversations in softly-lit cafes.
Newspapers cajole the snowflakes
letters of black and white;
blue shadows running with the night air.
The abstract searches
lines beyond picasso's cubist buildings
flourescent to the soft glow of candlelight
upon a wooden table.
Streets are empty of teakettle conversations;
5 p.m. now just a faded memory.
Snowflakes walk with the wind
a sliver of fragile light;
love speaking through shakespeare's sadness.
through music echoed upon an an ice covered pond;
stars watching your silence
from a dark sky.
The embers of a fire that warmed our souls
a northern wind that carries the very breath of life itself;
love reciting the ghosts of poet's words
the soul of a perfect snowflake.