we walk in the mist,
we walk in the cold
you talk about nothing,
I talk about everything
we arrive at a warm fire
we arrive at a hot stew
you set the table,
I pour the champagne
and
then
the ice wine
Poetry | Stories | Photography
we walk in the mist,
we walk in the cold
you talk about nothing,
I talk about everything
we arrive at a warm fire
we arrive at a hot stew
you set the table,
I pour the champagne
and
then
the ice wine