On A Cold Morning

On a cold morning
the smell of
freshly washed sheets
ice outside the window
the morning sun
illuminating the room

and your whispers

of the fading souls,
the burning of the heart,
the world slipping away
from reality

and the memories

of the veil
becoming thin,
dancing with the dead,
dancing in my mind,
dancing in your mind,
both of us
harmonizing

a melody

symphonic,
calm,
like a whisper
on a cold
winter morning

and the knowledge

of the world beyond,
what the stars look like
when you're one of them,
floating in the cold
and dark
surrounded by a million
a billion
a trillion
beautiful, glowing, sparkling
lights,
just like you

and knowing

that this moment
will vanish in time.