He never said a word.
The snow fell silently.
Slowly we turned on our axis.
I cried, repeatedly. Alone.
Still he looked on with placid
Respect. Damn admiration. Worship.
And again I would fall, left there
To cry tears of secret relief,
But morning would break and he would
Be standing in his high tops,
Wet with heavy flakes of January,
Cold, but not shivering. That smile.