Cold wintry nights were not her favorite kind of eve,
especially when she was already warm by the fire with Henry - she didn’t want to leave.
They were two wrapped together hands that stay warm in December even without mittens.
Their eyes were through and through passion. With each other, they were so profoundly smitten
Henry’s love for Cora traveled deep as the sea
and Cora’s love for Henry, like a young sprouting tree.
For they had only known each other what some might call a short while
but they knew right when they met, their love would not be described as shallow or juvenile.
They shared and they reminisced about the day they first met.
They spoke of laughter and of joy, the kind that no enemy can ever threat.
She gazed into Henry’s dancing eyes, which were hallmarks of his heartened ****** features
And she asked with anticipation, “Henry, how are we such loving creatures?”
He answered, “Cora, as good as we are, were raised in shelters of hate
but the both of us became stronger after breaking through the metal barred gate.”
Cora remembered each stinging slap generously distributed by her brother
while her ears still rang with harsh words and empty threats yelled by her mother.
And Henry, such a young boy was he
when told by his father what a man really ought to be.
His body should able the strangling fingers’ grip
and wear the accessory of a bruised, ****** lip.
Cora recalled the screeches, her baby sister’s blue cry,
while Henry relived the visions of a couch covered with beer bottles where his careless father did lie.
But the past remains just that when your soul cries for that one
who stands and lays and walks beside you until the moon turns to sun.
Henry and Cora both drag a dark past
but never cease holding their gaze and each other’s hands because they know what they have will last.