Icy Hands

Winter nights throw me into a haze

Of not knowing the time or place

The energy around me is chaotic

But full of magic

And yet I do this silly, stupid thing

Which may seem relatively mundane

I forget my gloves

Almost every day

You laugh

But sometimes, I think it’s on purpose

So I feel a sense of urgency

Of being in a place where I’m warm

And when I run into you

I apologize profusely for my icy hands

And teary eyes

You, though, always know what to say

Through all my awkward ways

You whisper gently into the abyss

Why would I care about your icy hands?

Whenever I see you

All I feel is warmth

And isn’t that the most beautiful thing?