| Coldest day... Your mouth is too wide for kissing, Made for devouring And the telling of tall tales. Ive lost count of how many. And yet Im never tired of listening, Waiting for your smile. Our breath mingles Above our heads A melding our lips will never taste. The chill makes us stand too close. Hyperborean dreams whispered Between us. A haze of your smoke interposes As we say our goodbyes Each to seek a separate Warmer clime. By Xia Harria Comments? Click here to email comments about this poem. All Rights Reserved February 2005 |