• I sit still.
    The wind around me shifts.
    The cold of the earth,
    Seeping into my already
    Trembling limbs.

    Memories vivid, yet distant
    Flash before my eyes
    Once bringing joy,
    Now filling me with agony.

    Another burst of cold,
    This time strangely comforting.
    The shape of the the chill,
    Hand-like against my back.
    Are you there?

    I stir.
    The fingers fall from my back.
    I return to my previous state,
    Convinced of my insanity.

    Your hand--I know it now--
    Brushing my hair, ghostly,
    Little more than a mirage.
    I cling to your icy presence.
    The hand--your hand--brushes my cheek.

    I close my eyes, shut out the night,
    Memories cease, pain erased.
    I know you're gone,
    But of course you aren't.