The night is here and the wind is slightly rushing at our entrances; although, inside the climate has it's differences. In between the thermostat providing warmth, dimmed vision, television illuminating our faces, cinnamon scents floating through the vents, my arms are imprinted from your sudden firm grips. It's my lap you sit as we watch continuos scenes of outburst, followed by your hysterical vocal siren. Unsure if this movie is actually getting scary or if its because the Hennessy mixed apple cider is wearing. As the fallen leaves picks up by the breeze I can hear growing alerts of "trick or treat", which happens to be the most exciting sight of your night. Seeing you so enthused by the little costumes, loving how well you are with the young; therefore, it's blissful to witness you having so much subtle fun. Temporarily able to shut ourselves back inside and it is obvious that the gusts have been having it's way with your bun. Reposition as "Netflix and chill" get back real. You get your last shivers out as you find shelter for your arctic feet. Took us a couple of tries to agree on what's comfortable, finally. Now I'm back to supporting your marshmallow like body in my tightened arms when I'm stricken by this rush of paradise. The feeling of triumph, due to being able to give you what you ultimately asks of me. You didn't know you'll be spending nights like this with your superhero dressed in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants. The uniform that none of the candy seeking children glorifies; however, they don't know how high I jumped, how hard I stomped, how straight I punched and how fast I had to run to save you from all those jokers.