The TV light flickered on the fireplace's glass,
and for a second my mind was tricked into thinking there was a fire in its hearth.
The trickery brought memories of snow, cinnamon, and you.
Unfortunately, I never caught your eye like the flicker of fire,
And I never felt your lips on mine,
like snowflakes dissolving on my tongue,
and leaving behind a sweet taste.
But it's August now,
And my love for you has long since melted with the cold snow.