the frosted arms of branches
reach out at us through fog
filled walks
the brush of twig, a hand to hold
notes swirl in my head
thoughts of you, at tip of tongue
just short of saying your name out loud
to no one
and the din of nothingness
ice caked concrete
i whisper 1 2 3 4
i stop
when i've realized i'm counting
steps
again
a long black coat walks
one half block ahead
a silhouette on its own
the sky a haze of grey lilac
the trees heave with white
i feel the sound of it
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