How does this night feel

Tonight feels unreal. I’m looking more ahead of me, and stealing glances at you than I am at my feet to calculate where they meet the ground next. This isn’t how I usually walk when there’s more snow than my clumsy self can handle.

But, I’m afraid of missing something you spot like a cool sign or cute dog, or missing your glance again (which has kept us giggling).

“Let’s sit down over there,” you suggest. And I’m happy to go create a scene in a movie with you.

“Sure, then you can find the poem you promised to recite to me. I wanna know why it’s your favorite.” I’m being playful, yet honestly hoping you’d share yourself just a little more. Give me one of your favorites please. I’ll hold it carefully. I’ll write it down in my journal, and give a gift later down the line that’ll show you I remembered.

You smile. I can’t tell if you’re blushing ‘cause you’re a bit shy or maybe you’re just as cold as I am.

We sit down, and you take a minute to pull up the poem.

“Do you want me to look at you or…” you trail off, and I want to hold your hand.

My answer comes at the time snow begins to fall. I take a chance with my hand.

Is this moment the same for you as it is for me?

You answer my thoughts with a smile that says to me, “tonight feels unreal.”