Ice

Hello sweet chill in my bones,
We meet again.
You are so familiar, yet so distant.
My hands are that of ice,
My coordination failing,
My fingertips are numb,
But they tell me that it's nothing.

Wrapped in all that I can,
Fleece, wool, and cotton.
Still ice,
Still shaking,
Still Mind.

I reflect on that of yesterday,
Where my world was turned and shaken,
Like a snow globe,
That you've packed away,
That hasn't seen the light of day,
In ages.

I wonder where I'll wander,
And if we will ever meet again,
But right now, I find myself
Questioning.

I long to sit and talk to another soul,
For hours on end,
Laying on a bed of grass,
Only the summer sun warming our skins.

I long for intelligent conversation,
Leading to chatter of philosophies and what might have been.
Where can I grasp this concept of perfect inclarity.