Hoar Frost

I struggle to find you in the cold hoar frost
Browned grass crunching underfoot
Beneath white clouds of breath as I walk
Watching frost etched patterns
On those last of dead leaves which cling
The faint memories of trees
Telling old stories of lost spring

Stories change as do memories, with time
And this is the time of dying; life in winter's lull
Winter, barren fields and the cawing of crows
Most stay inside, gathered in, warm

I wish you were here (as my legs churn through the cold)
Walking aimlessly, so as not to be inside, alone
Walking until the cold numbs and says, go home...

Come and make it a home, to be gathered in with you
Cold forgotten, distance too
Why are impossible things, impossible
And if impossible, why do you make me feel the way I do
The thoughts of you coming now, through the cold
Inspite of the cold, you bring fire

I long for you to lay with me, in the garden of our words
Watered with kisses that fall like soft rain
And sometimes sudden showers in the telling
The soft warmth of you offered to my touch, my lips
To be devoured by my gaze, your breath warm
Mixed with mine

I taste the dream of you, like a mirage within this freezing
Blue skies piercing as my desires, and a homeward turn
Alone, but if you were to greet me at the door
Distant memories would breath
 And hoar frost patterns give way
To the blossoms of spring

Such are thoughts on a cold southern day