Cold Burn

Walked through the golden harvest of corn.
Beneath descending sun.
Fully knowing the winter of the mind
would soon be born.
That first stark ivory would stun.
Before I knew inner inferno's contain icicles too.
The cold burn left the clues.
His eyes were electric heat.
His words a brutal snow.
His smile a warmth so sweet.
His touch, the absence of tomorrow.
I walked the maze through the piercing sorrow.