Still

Winter graced us prematurely this November.
Autumn is trying to hold her ground, cursing the crisp yellow green leaves clinging to a branches tip.
They relish in pleasing her, but lament in their knowledge that they’ll fail.
The wind will remain cold and blow harder towards twilight, tickling them at their stems, and tempting them to break free.
Snuggled closely, our bodies touching slightly under quilts and comforters.
We watched the snow collect and build in soft drifts, blanketing Autumn’s fallen leaves, leaving no trace.
We’re in an unspoken agreement that we’re not leaving each other today.
Time slips by us, the hours go unaccounted for.
We don’t mind.
We’re watching out my window,
watching as the inches turn to feet.
The sun begins to set, as the snow drifts continue building.
We’re blissful under covers, having not left our refuge, with no plans to.
We amiably watch the view, simply enjoying the snowflakes fall and being still.

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