Pixelate

White as ghost, white as rose
Snow drifts softly, softly
Exhale, and your vapor comes
to me

If we found respite near
the glowing furnace,
would we only melt the moment
which was the Jubilant

Shiver of your fingers
cross my cheek

In ice, in Baptism,
a wealth of an
unspeakable kind

~which shall never dim~

as the white stars,
white as you, do not dim

The crystal hope
as you pixelate and softly,
softly become memory