Lillies and Ghosts

Winter

You looked so beautiful,

In the angelic prism of death,

That is snow.

Your rosy cheeks,

Your acoustic laugh.

You'd stare at my breath,

Pretend to catch it,

"May I write you poems?"

I'd laugh softly,

How adorable, 

I do not write poetry about you.

You are poetry, my dear.

I am winter,

I am plain,

But sparkling with freshness.

Oh, how everything is dead,

and silent.

But, my darling, 

You are as alive in this snowy morning,

As you are in my frozen heart.