The cold, it creeps down to the core.

They twitch and tingle, my fingers,

Imploring for one minute more,

And the memory, it lingers.

 

Like ice and warmth, it smears the sky.

Spice skims the frozen breath—it stirs,

From the cup they share with a sigh,

And the memory, it lingers.

 

The drink trips down in scattered sips.

It lights that for which he hungers.

The heat contrasts and bites the lips,

And the memory, it lingers.

 

The night fades behind stars and flakes.

The history and present blurs.

The certainty of my soul aches,

And the memory, it lingers.