bud in winter

he painted lilacs
along her spine
and nurtured them
across her shoulders

she welcomed their colors
into her nicotine stained lungs
and ran her fingers over aromas
that pointed to the sun

he showed her the seasons
with resting eyelids and reminded
her in the summer she could
lay amid august and flourish


and in winter she'd
be the bud that 
melts the ice