The thaw reveals the leaves that have lain beneath the frost
all season long.
So it was true. I do still cling to you, even after you are gone.
Shriveled and gray, they crunch underfoot,
a pale reminder of a love that was once
brilliant as a leaping flame.

When you left me,
I swore I’d never love again.
Yet now Spring’s tender wind
brings a faint reminder of warmth.

I sit bruised and shivering in the gutter as meltwater
trickles down the crevices in my body
and pools in the potholes of my eyes.
The shattered remains of thorn-like icicles
litter the ground before me.
Stripped of my defenses,
I am left raw and frail as a newborn rose.

I tell the birds to fly back home.
How can such a wasteland ever harbor life?

The snow slips off the trees,
leaving them bare and vulnerable before the
tattered sky.
I shudder and ache for the numbness of the frost.
Tears drip from the trees;
surely I will never love again—
but Spring kisses each and every branch
with tiny
green
buds.