I’ll remember this –

a roaming winter night,

the cold nibbling our toes

until we were gone,

lapsed into a dream –

oh, it was so real,

the fireside by our bodies,

the touch of your lips,

linger of your feel.

Swaying, as if to the night,

as if to the pull of the moon,

our silence was music enough,

the feel of your beating heart

against my ears – the bass.

I wanted to whisper to you

this poem – these words –

but you already knew.

We were floating,

we were flying.

And it was a cold winter’s night –

it was a dream.