first snow

they whirled in ,
giving form to sharp cold that had been biting ears,
presenting softness, reflecting our blankets much more than the air they inhabited.

the sun shown,
adding brilliance to arrival of first snow,
and i thought, momentarily, that i wanted you here to share fervent flurries;

as quickly as they came,
their parade withered down to wet sidewalks,
leaving no trace of their grand austere that, for moments, dominated our world.

and i am left
with meltings of you, dampening my heart.
the fading of reality, distant as exquisite  crystal tracings in warm palms.

is our story the same as white blankets melted?