Her in winter

On silent airy wings my muse flies

over grass blanketed by the pure whiteness of freshly fallen snow,

that reflects the sunlight from her eyes.

And as she glides through

she threshold of my home,

snow falling from her shoes.

Her smile is a white reflection of

the powder outside, framed by rich red lips

that curve upward as she sees me stare.

They say that staring at the snow in daylight

can cause blindness, then let me stare at her smile and

let my eyes absorb the rays that steal sight.

She floats across the floor, a muse, a grace,

a giver of ideas and inspiration, moving me to write

a thousand novels with her kiss.

She approaches comes close,

looks at me with eyes of light

smiles at me with teeth of snow

And inspires me.