Face of ice

A face carved from ice and snow,
it holds me close, it makes me bow
my head and bend my heart and mind.
There is dignity caught in the moonlight -
a smile that will last long after midnight,
and an undying hope on the way behind.

Tenderness engraved into all my synapses,
still sparkling as it lapses.
A need to unleash that load
of dreams which roll tumbling
uphill – terribly softly mumbling.
I am humbly stumbling along
this inwardly bent road
of slips and forlorn kisses,
loopholes and surreal chances,
next days and near misses,
and of pitifully hopeless glances.
Where does it belong?

A face carved from ice and snow
which melts as I quickly go
the other way to flee it,
knowing that, as I turn around,
I’m sure I will have found
another way to see it.