Cold Season

I remember the middle of winter. White snow, cold air, and frost forming on the window. Driving in my van staring out my frost flavored window. Crystals cutting my eyes. Black ice starting to form in places that had warmth. I remember you. Same frost. Cutting into the warm flesh of innocence, taking all life. Two black eyes staring back through the ice smelling window. Cutting through seven inches of wonder, laughter, and tears. They fall. Turn into black ice. Smothering little warmth left.