Reflections

Reflections of smoke That provoke Billowing shadows in front of the glass Making it hard to pass Through the windows a view So covered with frost and ice Making winter here precise Cold winds cry out loud The whistling forms a shroud Around my domain Where I am contained While I sit and escape the moment Watching the fire That I admire I am called to another place Where I embrace My book of dreams Written out in streams Of ink And blink to see What’s before me