Its Christmas time again
the wind whipped her lips and his
stinging their faces and drying their tears
the two figures stood out in the cold
it was all he could do to keep from kissing her
and the gap between them widened
no more soft outlines in golden moonlight
just jagged edges, sharp feelings
and a tension
not to draw together but repel away
a reversal of polarities on a sub polar day
her eyes off his and their eyes apart
the ground filled his vision and she filled his thoughts
or the way she was
since her figure was a rapidly shrinking shape
in the fog of snow and increasing darkness
black and white and salt and ice
its sadness, its inability, its stubbornness
its irreconcilable,
it was love.
Its Christmas time again.
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