Most days, I feel like coming here alone

A river’s edge, banks piled high of white drifting dunes

Delicate flakes lining my auburn freckles

It reminds me of my great-grandmother. 

Everything from our skates piercing an untouched surface

Slipping, sliding, their edges delineating the ice

To the solemn dark, dotted with luminous beams of light

Casting shadows only the puppets could create

Some days everything is gone

The transparent ground was covered in sparkling dust

On other days, again, I feel alone  

Like the Cardinals chirping, perched in the open 

Sticking out royal and bright, not knowing they’re lost

Feathers ruffled yet untouched

Walking north, headed home on the path I now call my own,

I ponder and relive what’s gone. 

A river frozen and glazed, rigid only when you were here

Skates that no longer fit, years since being last laced

Gliding backward and caught in a spin

My cheeks pricked with the biting wind, pulling my coat tighter

Trying to lock the heat in 

Our memories finally fall to rest. 

At the magical place, they were made last.