When he opened his eyes to a snow-tipped peak

the only love of his life is missed

those sparkling mountain tops all hikers seek

brought to life her eyes and the lips

he once tenderly kissed.

His lids lifted to a tranquil blue lake

still as ice before the day had begun

early birds soared high, no sound did they make

all day he would mourn, beneath the warm sun.

The rays slashed colour across the wide skies

horizon of purple, orange and pinks

an unused pillow drew tears from his eyes

the bed’s icy space, his heavy heart sinks.

He needed no mountains, or sweeping skies to view

only the woman, whose eyes were lake-blue.