Salt and Snow

She often compared her lips to a rose,

And he always asked, “why a rose?”

She would reply that they blossomed when they were loved,

And they were soft and supple and he loved

To drag his fingers along their edges.

She whispered to him, “My eyes are windows.”

When he asked her, “how so, are they like windows?”

She replied that they were always open to the truth,

That nothing can hide behind a window, they are forever clear.

He could look into her gaze and see who she was,

And she could look into the world and see the truth.

Her words were salt, she proclaimed.

He was confused, at first, “How could they be salt?” He asked.

Oh, and she delighted in her answer,

Because her words could be just the thing you’re missing,

They could make anything better,

And he loved to relish in the flavor of them.

She smiled and said, “My skin is like the snow.”

“Because it’s pale?” He asked.

She laughed and told him that it was because her skin

Was new again every morning,

That it was a promise of a new beginning and because

it was a wonder to look at.

“My body could be compared to nothing.” She said.

“Because it’s yours.” He replied.

She heard this and she wept.