Buried in Winter

The greatest of lovers are rumored to not dawdle.
In hope of truth my legs begin pacing
down through the forest blanketed in snow;
past thickened ice the earth shows lo and behold:
It takes more than cloth to survive the cold.

Our limbs gradually paralyze from the wind;
bones cripple with arthritis from sub zero air;
hair colored the pages of letters never sent.
It takes courage to trek on paths untold:
It takes more than cloth to survive the cold.

Curled up beneath a canopy of snowflakes
we lay trembling ensnared by covers of moss;
our cheeks barely able to shape frigid grins.
In the trees lost languages our bodies fold:
It takes more than cloth to survive the cold.

My heart did not glance away as it stayed with you.
Though we were raw in the frozen air
the animals refused to lick our frostbit skin.
Accepting our fates are just short of growing old:
It takes more than cloth to survive the cold.