She stands sweetly
behind a pine's hanging needles,
rocks on the ground
making way for her feet
within the silver frame
that she gave me last Christmas.
Robed in a black dress
topped with green, her favorite color,
soft brown hair surrounding
the smile that captures me.
She looks out from the pixels,
behind documents and programs,
my fingers running across the mouse
that I wish could be her hair.
Upturned lips, inviting eyes,
hair like a regal cape around her crown,
different reflections of the same face,
frozen moments of beauty and bliss,
To hug my laptop would be too painful,
its rigid corner jabbing my side,
the soft hum no match for her soothing voice.
How I wish to hold her in my arms.