The scarf brushed her cheek
like a kiss, like the bloom of her favorite flower
but this-was silk.
She dreamt of the worms that made it,
the pots that boiled it.
what a pretty way to die
drifting in a cauldron of color.
Tears glossed her cheeks and she masked her face in ice.
She rolled in the snow
making a print of her body.
Forever is too long
just until spring is perfect.
She thought of the snowflakes dusting her face
pressing her into the blue
white snow covered her
her body blooming with cold,
crystals of ice crowned her hair
and she became the queen of silence
until the thaw of spring.