“The Ill Hint”
The snow has been falling every hour.
Her face gleams from the sleigh as it rides down our hill.
Soon, a bright reflection gives its circle the frame.
Love between us fills the space into a great picture of ice and white.
We’re caused to perfection until a reciting number guarantees the stretch.
Animals keep pulling our chains under the growing, shrinking heavens.
Every touch within us comes out for a break in succession of chance.
Matches get frozen where the atmosphere refines itself towards blind dreams.
I can’t light a match because the flame isn’t obscured from push to pull.
Maybe her face creates my eyes along its frame or burns a gesture.
Riding along, riding along.
https://www.deviantart.com/gameuniverso/art/The-Ill-Hint-799956424
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