Dreaming of Winter

The snow was meandering its way down, kissing the earth gently. Its simple and natural embrace was soon stolen away by errant footsteps. The silence of a cold and quiet wintry eve was marred by the pleasant chattering of teeth and the telling of tales.1

The pair, huddled close, walked side by side, at times cuddling for a sense of warmth and companionship. 2

The duo came to the entrance of the park. They paused for a glance at each other.3

"Ready?"4

They clung to each other as they braved the dark, after-hours realm of the park. The moon alone was their guide through the ups and downs of age-old wooden steps and packed-down snow trails. 5

Their surreal sojourn into the woods led them down an all too familiar path. There, upon an opening on the wooded hill, sat a bench. Near that bench there stood a wiry, wizened tree. And from that bench that was near the tree that stood on the hill that was in the woods there was the most beautiful scenery man had ever laid eyes upon. The entire valley, the trees, the trails, the river and the hills, all were visible from this point.6

The two brushed the snow from its pedestal and warmed themselves together upon that bench. Tonight was special. The moon was full, the snow was new, and the wind was still. Even the stars had gathered for this night. One could say they came in full regalia, displaying their illustrious silver hues against the blackened sky.7

The two grew colder and the talks died down. They melted into each other, a huddled mass of insulated coats, of scarves and hats. Their gloved hands connected.8

As the moon smiled down upon them, the young man looked into her eyes of marble gray. They were a deep ocean of memories. He was slowly becoming part of that ocean. Tonight, he would dive into that sea of thoughts and feelings.9

Words were held prisoner amidst their stifled breathing. Her head nestled against him and for a moment they shared so warm a hug. 10

Their lips drew closer, and the stars looked on.11

And the young man sat up, and sighed. He looked out his window upon those very stars he had sat under. The moon was out. It too looked into his room, and flooded his chamber with an iridescent light. He forced a half smile and slumped back onto his bed. The night once more evaded him, though he was blessed to have had that dream again. 12

It was his favorite dream. It held his favorite month, his favorite time of day, his favorite weather, and his favorite person. It was his favorite. He gathered up his pillow and squeezed it into himself. 13

Someday, he would finish the dream.14