frostnip
under the ice the stream is still flowing
your lips brush the back of my neck,
the snow crunches muffled beneath our feet.
and for an intimate moment all I hear is the earth breathing,
a somber breath of one who sleeps deeply.
under the ice the stream is still flowing
your lips brush the back of my neck,
the snow crunches muffled beneath our feet.
and for an intimate moment all I hear is the earth breathing,
a somber breath of one who sleeps deeply.