I found her tombstone.
It lay buried beneath snow,
encased in ice,
under a canopy of white held aloft by the trees.
I had been walking,
as I often do,
on the clouds of steam rising from my mouth,
and what they meant to me,
when my foot caught hold of the crumbling cross,
and sent me tumbling down...
I caught myself on hands in a sea of crystal white,
flesh stinging from the cold,
my foot aching in pain,
burning hot in the winter wood.
Why would there be a grave here?
What poor soul would be forever lost in this hollow?
in the cold,
throughout the fading light,
and into a darkness of falling snow,
I worked to unmask the grave,
and reveal the name of the damned.
I toiled for hours,
until my fingers went numb and bled,
spilling red upon the white,
a contrast so stark in hurt my eyes,
but in such beauty that was not lost on me,
until I could reveal the faint carvings that were letters.
Her name was as beautiful as I'm sure she was in life,
and I could not help but smile as the sun crested the hill,
bringing with it warmth,
to this forgotten,
I left her there,
revealed from the snow,
vowing to return in the spring.
I left her there as I leave myself here.