With You
I leave a single trail of footprints in the snow as snowflakes float between the firs. Not a soul for miles, but I’m not alone.
“It’s dead quiet; I hear the snow fall.”
You’re not here to listen, but I’ve never stopped talking to you.
The trees’ greenery has been masked all but completely by an ivory frosting. It’s white all around us. It reminds me of our wedding day.
The stillness is broken by a thunderclap—I drop to my knees, feeling warmer, growing colder.
A grisly, crimson rose blooms at my feet.
I am not alone.