Upset by cold and wind,
Discarded by the clouds and atmosphere,
For it would not rescind,
Its gentle chill or silent way it works,
The way, in fact, it loves,
The way it's never the same way two times,
How it thinks it is a gift from above.
But I know snow's secret and how it melts,
With the slightest caress,
From bodies with blood, warm, pumping through them,
Like yours, in vintage dress.
That's why I'm cold,
Until my eyes catch yours,
I finally find my place among these flakes,
Meshing, like water, to welcoming pores.