a stray needle stuck within the knitted sweaters,
thick wool of dark forest green,
or that of soft spoken orange
stitched with reds and blues
of a sunset setting behind evergreens,
the swift stroke, a patch of red
and tight fitted turtle necks
to tickle the hair, the ears
worn under the brilliant cascades of snowflakes
falling, whispering, sighing as the air
shimmers with a piercing blue
and snow melting on the flushed red of cheeks
the stray needle slips from hug to embrace,
from kiss to piggyback,
pricking pain far further than spilling blood,
the crackle of pain and echo of loneliness,
the sear of rejection and haunting isolation,
so it slips unnoticed,
twinkling under the moonlight