Name That Melts

The ice breathes, cold and silent.
A voice crosses the crystal.
Light melts it into a whisper.
Every drop carries a forgotten word.
Time bends it, sways it like a boat.
The name advances, pale and hesitant.
From the bottom of the frost emerges that name.
A curve of water welcomes it and reflects it.
But memory, elusive, lets it fall.
A mist becomes sea and falls silent.
The voice dissolves, only a liquid echo remains.
The ice closes its lips, leaving the trace.