The moon sits high above the frosty night, as the cold belts all below. They gaze occasionally, catching glimpses of cryptic stars. Beacons of light dotting endless shades of dark. They gaze occasionally, hand in hand, trotting slowly, but steadily along the paved walk.
Holiday lights gleam, the air is alive with the scent of chestnuts and pine. Her hair is tangled, like a fishing net castaway. The snow is light, but all the same, chalking the streets, dusting the trees. His gaze is humble, eyes as if they've solved a puzzle.
Their lips meet in a moment forgotten by the clock. A moment missed by the candid, but forever etched in the hearts of two. The lights twinkle, as the mid-December air regains the space between them. The feeling lives on, as it always will.