In Winter

I want to remember you on a snowy evening,
your hands holding those polished rocks,
and your fingers dropping them one by one
into my open hands.
You told me they were gifts from gods.
The purple one, an amethyst warrior.
The ruby one, a broken heart,
and I wanted to pretend that this gift was enough.
A mountain of stones to bury parts of you,
parts of me, and risks we were so foolish to take.