The Winter Soulstice

A penance from the thoughts that were pulled from frigid air -
Cold fronts come to blow away despair.
The wood nymphs slumber under a blanketing of white -
The souls drift upon the breeze from fright.

Wading in the shallow creek,
Growing numb by night.
Wind brushes past a hardened shell,
Shadows form as light.
Hollow paintings
Brought upon to reminisce.
While constraining the thoughts
That come from the abyss.

The chill has filled my lungs
And each sigh expels the pain.
From my lips your ghost escapes and dissipates again.
Your image lies before me;
I leap to reach your face,
But through my grip the smoke has slipped and leaves without a trace.
Do reflections lie
When they won’t show what you hide?

These icy days cut deep within.
From brisk memories with a most bitter end.
Coming from one frozen heart that’s been shattered from the fear,
That’s been waiting patiently for answers, the distant of warmth of cheer.

And yet I cherish the winter’s sting,
It calms my mind.
I’m not sure if my eyes water from the wind,
Or from the signs.

And yet I demand the winter’s sting,
It calms my mind.
Now I’m sure that they don’t water from the wind,
But from your sign.