Cold and hot, instance and essence,
We walked those cobbled streets, exhaling in short puffs to try and hold some of their warmth.
‘Did you see?’ I would say.
‘Do you hear?’ she would say.
We discovered which arm positions best suited our frames,
Which allowed for the closest proximity and walking fluidity,
Like a dance.
We danced.
Not practiced, like a waltz,
But free, like spinning faster and faster,
Hands tightly clasped in 3 parts joy and 1 part beautiful fear.