The Frost

Brought before the winter storm,
	your smile, face, and wonder in your heart
deserve a parasol
	from the white flake ice.

A snow crystal glints on your cheek
	warmth dissipates through cloak of clouded gray
I fear you perishing -- 
       my love, fair frigid corpse.

Blades run wild on frozen lake  
        a dance, a star reflects in silver mirror
I hear the shrill cry of
        a young candle snuffed too soon.

White roses lie upon your grave
        my tears, my hope freezes into white;
wind cracks, my fury bakes
        through the blackest night.

My thoughts grow colder, color fades
        your frigid depth pales waking light;
tell me: why did you ever go there,
        you who warmed my life?
             
Your moon still shines, remembering
	your love still lies etched into my heart
a ring of gold for nothing
	dies in winter's blight.