I see him at my window tonight.
The moon, full and bright
Casts his dark shadow onto an icy wall.
A familiar silhouette, unmistakable,
Pressed against the pane.
The cold melts his breath into feathery diamonds
Running in thin veins down the thick glass.
His face, hidden and veiled in black
Glances my way and nods;
I nod back
The glass no longer divides,
Inside with me and glancing forward
Towards my funeral bed.
My head, frozen, near death
Funnels my sight towards him.
His thin frame stops at my side.
The immortal guide
Reaching his ancient hand towards mine,
Soon to be part of the fabrics
And as the warmth of my life turns to frost,
I am lost.