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