This Prison Page

Dark drops
from this pen
stain the pure page,
form imperfect pictures
from obscure words.
Captured prison-like
until time unseen
fades, forgets -
in all but memory -
your face, your eyes,
alive in mine.

How snowflake-like
you are to me -
intricate, wondrous,
singular, free -.
And like those icy stars
that light upon me
from a wintery sky,
a brief breath,
a tender touch,
and you are gone -
denying this page,
defying this pen.
                                                 
Though you return -
though you have not gone -
I long for your touch
reaffirming,
to me conferring
a love transcending
these dark drops
on this prison-page.