Holding hands, making plans like a woman does with her man.
Kissing fingers while fantasy lingers like smoke from the bonfire of long gone winters.
Remembering all the little things that bring the winter into spring
like how we’d met and how we’d sing
out of tune, but full of joy, a song we never knew so well
but always cried to and always felt
like our hearts could in the winter melt.
I loved you so. I kiss your memory
and thoughts of you will always send me
to some forgotten wintery place
where hands will hold your heart, your face.