Up she stares,
Through the cold dry air;
To the blank grey skies,
Where hardly a bird flies.
Tired trees - - naked,
For only warm nests - - the bird's blanket;
Acknowledges the season - - with her visible breath,
As she watched - - layered with all she has.
Every step on the polished ground,
Everytime she looks around;
Is complete with little crystals of white - - drops of snow,
Even the sun is cushioned by the fog below.
And then comes the wind's brushes,
With lovely palms, she self-embraces;
Belittle her thick fabrics,
Make up her pinkish cheeks.
From time to time,
With her eyes - - they sublime;
Stares at him,
With the needing seem.
Catching them and her feminine being,
Is when his icy feeling;
Melts - - starts clinging,
Calming her numb hands becomes his...so wanting.
