You dream his voice every night, hear his step at the door, but he is not there. You pull your scarf closer against your ears and breathe his name into the wind. Winter will be colder now. On nights like this, too cold for sleep, I think of you. At 3am the sky is deep with stars, the moon hangs low above the roof tops.
Shadows weave themselves like ghosts at play between the houses.
Far away I hear the early tide approach the shore. That beach was ours on nights like this, to walk along and fashion dreams from salt and sand. Those nights, too cold to sleep alone, we played at love like children play at growing up. I was your Cinderella, you the prince who came to spirit me away to some far-off enchanted castle made of sand. The shadows taught us how to touch in whispers, like the moon would touch the waves.