Cottony Clouds

The winds of winter push
cottony clouds
before the moon
in the dark of night.
I remain,
missing more pieces
than I can gather.

The air is numbing cold 
and my shadow
has
disappeared into
frozen snowdrifts.

January
is an unforgiving month,
like
a lover in distress
who sacrifices 
reality for a dream.

There are always doubts
about
whether great love
equals great pain.
There are always doubts.

I am nostalgic and yearning
for the warmth 
of an afternoon sun.
I long for summer
I long for July,
lovely July
when
I was whole
and your smile
danced around me.

I remember
the heat
and I remember
the crisp white sheets.
I was that lover
who sought
but never saw.