Strangers again, we start the usual script Of pointless pleasantries and bland remarks About the weather, the news, and our days. I’d rather comment on your blue-green eyes And how they captivate my weary heart Despite the months gone by. If I were brave, I’d mention how you’re letting your hair grow As if you were preparing your visage To be framed by it on a Christmas card. You are dressed festively today, you know, With the green jacket and the pom-pom hat. I almost want to start a snowball fight And grab hot chocolate with you right after. But there’s no snow, and neither of us have gloves. Perhaps a different adventure then? “Not now,” you say, “I’ve other plans today.” And that’s how I know we’re strangers again.