December always comes fast
Once the winds take the Midwest in a flurry.
I can see our footprints, now–
Trailing the memory
Of yours in the snow.
No matter where we led,
You were sure to follow.
Even the night we left,
You found your way into our home,
Into the life you left behind
When you chose to repeat the cycle
Instead of breaking it.
We were anticipated casualties
In your personal war,
And no matter the lengths we travelled,
You always found us
Breathing heavy in the snow.
The cold stands so close to us now,
Murmuring the dark of day,
And the coldest cold that night could bring,
An unmatched comfort and solitude
For the absence of your ghost.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved