Snow

 

"You're so smart," she told me

with her hands cold and burned.

I made no reply;

I bowed before her

and sensed the parting.

Butterflies were catching fire,

disintegrating flowers.

"Have you been dreaming

of a desolate forest? "

I asked, without my mouth

uttering a word.

She sensed my sadness,

and our parting ways traced

a trail amidst the snow