poetry, writing

Seasons Change

Her hand hangs down by her side,

Shaking, unsure if nerves or the cold

Is the cause, Dressed in white,

Blending in with the frozen snow.

Dark eyes, windswept hair, she looks out.

Finally, she feels warmth, steady on her neck.

His hand slips into hers, and the warmth,

The warmth flows through her veins.

She dares not look to her side, though

She longs to see him standing there.

His hand slips free, and she pauses,

Fearing it is only a dream.

But the warmth returns as his hand finds

The small of her back. He guides her forward,

To the edge, beyond the crowd.

Finally she turns, and looks up.

Winter turns to spring, seasons change,

His smile steals her breath away.

Is this happily ever after?

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