Simple

This mind that goes at it's own pace, that see it as black or white.
While hers is all sorts of colors. Dialogue is erratic.
He speaks of the chill surround them, pulling in his sweater.
She twirls and takes off her jacket.
Walking up the stairs, focused on the flames that are sure to bring warmth
Grabbing his hand, pulls him to the wind. Awkwardly moving
releasing her hand, opening the door, he settles in the lazy-boy.