Walking down the Seine.

Metal crushing ice.

Indoor lighting in a good way. 

Heavy but soft. 

Like winter, but a little bit warmer. 

Then darker, and

cold, cold, cold. 

You held my hand,

we talked with our eyes,

and awoke to 

a polka dot spread of the day, 

begging us to notice it’s here. 

Like blue but bluer. 

Like blue but warmer.

Days that never seem to end. 

And thank God they don’t.