feeble winter

the winter snows and blankets all with a white, harsh death;
i only see the flowers that will be.
the wind blows desperately and cries of relief for its loneliness;
i only hear the life of spring in your voice.
the air is deathly still and lingers heavily with a frigid scent;
i only smell your sweetness.
the ice freezes and crackles threateningly beneath my feet;
i only feel your warmth.
the snow grudgingly melts and bitterly stings my mouth;
i only taster your delight.
the winter and its cold, icicle fingers feebly grasp for my heart,
which lies far beyond reach,
halcyon in your hands.