Snow

I walked out into the snow, your head in your hands.
An unspoken truth about tomorrow's drowning, droning, moaning.
It was cold in your rigid grasp--the infinite pull back to safety.
You left your shoes on the porch and took the brave man's march across powder white flooring--
tearing at your sleeves, blaming, cursing, and adoring.
Where were you that time I froze to death and swallowed the light?
A tight rope walker's worst nightmare come true as I fell into the ice-chilled night.
I wanted you to follow, the white on white backdrop seized me in full, but you shirked away and hindered my soulful call.
Downward lifting, a quiet chorus hums behind the wall.
Let me walk out into the snow to find you, twenty phalanges gone black--
I think they'll all be gone by the time you come back.
To hobble, to stumble, to trip, and to fall--
I'd travel a great deal for you into the unknown.
Scramble and hunt for you out in the snow.