She looks upon him,
Like the last remaining hints of winters chill,
Her lingering feelings of love,
Not quite disappeared,
Like remnants of the spring before,
Like buds of the spring not coming.
Her lips,
Painted pale and fragile,
Part and breathe,
With the words she knows he doesn’t want to hear,
But she’ll say them anyway.
“I love you”
Knowing that he would turn away,
Averting his eyes,
She searches him,
For the person he was,
But has he really gone,
Like the snow?
Is he fading as the time bears on.
Soon she cannot see him,
This man,
And his steady beating river flow,
Resisted the fiercest cold,
This man,
His waters couldn’t freeze in their haste,
This was the man that she loved.
Between the veil of the words hanging in the air,
His eyes turn to find hers,
Raised in response,
And the time passed between them,
Of years,
As seconds,
And the final “I love you”,
Passed between them,
From his lips,
To hers.