Except for a breeze that wraps you in its chilling embrace
Sudden sunshine that does not burn angry tan lines, prodding gently, a lovers touch on naked skin
The way the tiny hands peek out of that sweatshirt
The warmth of entangled bodies underneath a blanket,
that is so cold on the outside
Leaves you conscious of something in the air,
that you just cant comprehend
Late nights, when flickering fires illuminate stranger faces
Hands like sunflowers in the sun, aligned with the fire,
creased with age and stories untold
How stories seem to come to life, out of pages of an old book,
in the dusty afternoon sunshine when
everything else in the world snoozes
A little girl that has ceased to exist,
the only sign of her existence - broken fragments of memories scattered around places she used to visit
The things she used to say
The socks she used to hang up for Santa
Feet dipped in hot water, a moment to pretend
that everything around has stopped moving, a frozen instant
To listen to water dripping off wet strands of hair
To write love notes on the fogged up bathroom mirror.
There is really nothing much to like about winter.
Except for him saying,
"You cant stand the cold.. and you want to move to New York just to be at Rockefeller Plaza at Christmas?".
Except for the long, lingering kiss that always follows.
P.S: Much of this may sound completely senseless.. :)
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