Snow falling softly on lashes of eyes you love, and a cold cheek growing warm next to your own in hushed dark familial December.
What are the questions you wish to ask?
However, if a poem can be reduced to a prose sentence, there can't be much to it.
I wish i could press snowflakes in a book like flowers.
It is always pleasant to learn that someone takes an interest in a work which one enjoyed writing
One tends to write beyond what's needed