Cold Hand

Cold hands, fingers entwined in the chill,

Whispers of warmth in the quiet, still.

Nipped by the frost, yet reaching for light,

In the touch of the frozen, there's magic at night.

A gentle embrace, where the heart finds its glow,

Through shivers and laughter, the love starts to flow.

In the hush of the moment, we find solace and grace,

As breath mingles softly, a tender embrace.

The frost may be biting, the air crisp and clear,

But warmth is a promise, drawing loved ones near.

For in chilly encounters, true warmth is made.