Winter Friends

It was the soft swirls
that got me:
the gentle, fragile tendrils
of hope and vulnerability.
I couldn't pull away
from that.
The beautiful
possibilities
were blossoming with our laughter.
So many futures
were alive with us.

So much time
to watch the stars
before we die.
Do you think if we stare
at them for long enough,
we will be kidnapped
by the beauty?
I hope so.
For, then, what else could
we
be, but beautiful?

The golden grass bows at the feet
of the naked, silver trees.
Such majesty,
in such cold
and deadness.
The colors contrast
and highlight one another.
Just like our differences
light up our
lives.