Gentle is the touch
Of the evening star
In whose light there is much
Reflected, as we are.
The night cries a frozen tear
That strikes the glazed surface
Of the ground like a spear
That melts into a soft kiss.
Beneath the shadow
Of the naked trees
We stand, un-ready to go,
Faltering lips, trembling knees,
Our separate ways—
The snowflakes gossip
To our melodic sways,
Waiting for one of us to slip.
With a gust of wind we part,
Hands torn,
Our hearts forlorn--
We must find a new start.
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