Heated Verse

What more do we need but a quiet night
of walking in winter’s early darkness?
What more but soft snow falling through spindly branches
that reach heavenward like bent hands in supplication?
What more but the gentle pressure of your hand in mine,
of our laughter muted by snowflakes that flurry around us?
Nothing but poetry breathed in each other’s ears,
steaming from our mouths: as if we need the heated verse
to warm each other on this frozen night.

-M.Fabrizi