Thoughts of you

pass through my mind.

I reach out

to feel them

but my hand

touches glass

patterned with frost.

I breathe on the glass

and the light shines

through

from an empty room.

An evergreen tree

stands alone

in a corner.

Tiny lights illuminate

it’s branches.

The ice patterns return

and the image fades

as I turn to go

replacing my cold hand

inside my glove.

I walk home,

across the

frozen stones.

D.E.J. Dec11th 2008