Lost In A Thread

Lost in a thread,
love chased the wind across the lava rocks
to Reykjavik
to Pingholstraetti Street
where I counted the steps to the red wooden
door.
The smell of early morning coffee was
chased by the winter wind and the sun hid
behind a silver sky.
Your crooked smile chased the light in
my eyes
and the smell of your skin made me
catch my breath.
You are cold, you said,
Then you called me 'lambka' ,
and somehow the candles lit in my heart one
by one across a cold ice-laden dream.
I closed my eyes
and your deep nordic voice
echoed like the wind across the sea.
Someone from the past knitted your sweater
brown rough wool and patterns from ancient
icelandic times.
my finger traced the yarn..
my mind lost in a thread....