Biting cold

saps the fight from my limbs,

currents toss me and I tumble,

sucking, drumming,

gasping, thrumming.

In brief I am anchored,

the tumult rushes around me.

“Are you okay?”

Those words lost to years.

I knew better than to reach back

or close my aching fingers,

you might fall in.

So I push

back into the noise.

Down I drift,

alone thankfully,

to the numb dark,

where lies the frost promises.

And just before the ice,

there danced a fleck of light,

small but dazzling.

“I’m just like you,” it sings,

words I have never heard.

Warmth finds my fingers,

interlocking and opening,

I can breathe again,

somehow,

but everything smells like you now.

If you ask me,

no reason to mind,

I love the scent of moonlight.