Between the Lines
The grip of Winter, in its hold
whispers of longing, to weather the cold.
Glistening flakes kissing softly the cheek
still warm the embrace, of words yet to speak.
A new year, a new journey to once again raise
new thoughts of what "ifs" to fill Winter days.
Balancing all, the old with the new
may not be enough for "the again" wish of you...
Satin touches, held dear, remembering each thrill,
"As Always" a promise, needing only the will.