A piece to hold none could match
a way to faze this snowy night
the chills rising but a desired chill
to call up those frosted tips of the
fingers inter laced with mine. A chill
not from the north nor south but
from the soft lips of the hold. Small
tingles a purity and comfort race
through body and mind. Leaving
a winters night for all those who
delight in the view of moon light.
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