Midwinter’s season on her lips,a thawing blush tranquilizes the senses.The dark of winter’s solsticeleaves me no lips to see to kiss.Those pine-green eyes,dusts of snow feathering upon her blushed cheeks.There they melt,glissading down her face.

So how do you seethe real poeting mefeathery quill in handpallid parchment belowFully bared in pure lightas I sit down to writelavender sweet taperflits and flittersDraped in shimmering flowof long blonde hairas I conjure up some flairfor these spilt...