We sat around the fire
While the old man read the poetry
From a battered old book
Held together with strips of
Ribbon and shoelaces
Bound around it like a cord
The light flickered and danced
To the beat of spitting wood
Shadows stretched across the room
We hid in them like a duvet
Eyes fixed elsewhere
Saw not how I placed
Her hand in mine
And felt the delicate pulse
That betrayed her feelings to me
And mirrored my own feelings
For her.