You're cold, and so am I.

The bundles of black tree stalks tower.
Their short ice-coated limbs puff like smoke,
Such naturally produced chimney stacks.
But this wonder inspires madness.

This magical world with you and I
Can only be measured in the real.
Why cloud ourselves with synthetic doubt,
When we could cherish what we can see?

The morning sun, squandering for heat
Has yet to overcome the winter.
The right recipe would ruin sight
Of something so much greater than warmth.

Nurturing open landscapes with you,
Our esoteric dreamscapes break free.

Your smile is what warms my cold heart.