The Sound of Snow
Sometimes I think I hear you
in the moments just before dawn
whispering my name in the moon,
in the stars.
I’ll keep my eyes closed, balance
my breath on my tongue,
expand into the inky-black silence
If I could only stop time
maybe then I would know.
I’d breathe your name back in a whisper,
in an answer.
But no matter how I try
you remain just out of reach—
like the shadow of lips brushing my ear,
like the sound of snow