My Heart, Alone

Cold and beautiful,

The ice surrounds the structure.

Heat pulses from it,

Nothing around it stirs,

Nothing breathes.

Isolated.

Heat whispers out,

Tender fingers seeking

But, the ice thickens and bites.

Fingers recoil in pain,

Nursing the sting of cold.

Beseiged.

Something stirs on the ice, 

Nearing to pulsing heat.

Sniffing,

Judging,

Moving on,

Abandoned.

Time creeps on,

Ice lapping seductively at the heat.

Hot fingers shrinking,

Wrapping themselves together,

Venturing out less often.

Withering.

Ice, so beautiful,

Mounded thickly over the heat.

Embers pulse sluggishly,

Losing the battle

Against the quiet cold.

Despairing.

Fingers wrap tightly,

Protecting the very core,

Waiting desperately for movement,

A sign of life on the ice.

For warm regard.

Hope