I wanted to write about the snow,
To tell you about a love I lost years ago.
She was so gentle and beautiful like the white dove,
Yet so cold and dangerous.
Once I held her in my hands as she began to melt.
That was the warmest I’ve ever felt.
How can something so precious take my breath away?
I came back, just like the spring had sprung,
Then the water began to run,
Meticulously, like the seasons before us.