My dream dies then returns
where you are a denizen who
speaks in languages I’ve yet
to learn.
Only our dream had weight yet
Left no impression in the snow.
That December we
spoke in stutters still the heat
of our tongues turned words
to smoke.
You appear on the back of my eyes
etched into walls where light
and shadow mingle.
Why did you have to be so beautiful?
Now December holds me fast
forever retrieving the dream.
Night Music