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.
YOU ARE READING
Lillies and Ghosts
PoetryPoems for the young, the restless, or the mad. These are my words to you, always and forever~