From nowhere it came, and to nowhere it went,

A sliver of white in a widening dark.

The sky never asked where its mercy was spent,

It only released it to leave its mark.

 

It drifted past the stars it couldn’t keep,

Past colder truths the sky refused to say.

Below, a figure stood in quiet sleep,

Built from what others lost along the way.

 

It settled on shoulders of that frozen form,

A brief connection the wind could not hold.

Yet in its descent, a snug warmth was born,

A spark of life in the pale winter cold.

 

I turned away before the night could ask

What price was paid, or who was left to grieve.

Some things are shaped by loss we never mask,

And some arrivals only come by leave.