I am standing in the cotton covered woods while soft flakes of snow float onto my eyelashes. I blink for a moment only to feel the cool air of November travel through the spaces between my fingers. These small spaces where my body ends are where my true love's body begins. We hold hands longer in the wintertime to keep icicles from forming.
Each year, the snow drifts onto the rooftops and every inch of earth grows quiet. I vow not to long for my garden because longing only takes away sand from life's hourglass. If I am here now, in the cotton covered woods with the one I love beside me, why should I want to be anywhere else?