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.