Cold nights have no sunlight,
as its Christmas eve,
but each second it takes that you stop outsider  my door:

                                      I breath.
Because just like mistletoe, you made me love the,
without an action you made me; me.

I love the way you look tonight,
black hair so dark,
it silhouettes my Christmas lights.

And your rare green eyes, has a Christmas tree sparkle, dancing in the twilight of this Christmas eve night.
Your face ,
pickled plum pink,
with a scarf that steals your neck,
to a coat so big and perfect,
your way of running here, is so sweet and precious,
I think I'll kiss you under the mistletoe.