Glacial beauty.

I lap at her feet deeply enamoured by her grandeur,

alpine pools, her eyes I long to envelop,

the trickle of her gaze clear and refreshing.

While I churn in longing she is there,

stretching down from the heavens, silent.

I would that a mist should come between us,

so that she might be hidden from my gaze.

But there through the tendrils of curling vapour,

a glimpse of her glacial beauty captivates me.

Longing becomes a miasma thick and opaque,

no longer can I subsist on memory wholly.

The wind blows through and once again,

her splendour I see by the waxing moon.

She whistles a sombre tune of longing,

and my waters clap in appreciation.