all her imagery

in the winter with all her imagery.
the sterile solitude invokes solace
yet harbors contentment,
permeated by
her orchestrated design.
so neatly, her placement.
gentle, the crystals of snow.
yet the fury, the wind behind a gale.
the disappearance of seasons past,
and the abandonment of them to come.
but with contrary,
the innocence of young love.
inability to witness,
the candor of disbelief,
flourishes passion.
illuminating warmth.
as if,
only the kiss…
knows the secret to our hearts.