Crisp

Crisp, cold, bone chilling.

My breathe is the only thing I can see.

Where is the warmth found,

Under a wool blanket,

Or next to a freshly stoked fire?

Those only warm the skin.

Heat is what is I need.

The type of heat that is rare,

The type of heat found in your arms.

Your heat warms not just the skin,

But my heart and soul.

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