ember53608

The Poet: He smiles as he sees her sleeping & gently covers her with a blanket. He goes to the window and looks out watching snow fall, ever so slowly... He sees people in the streets, Chatting, walking. Some happy, Others sad. Hearts beating, Hearts broken; some warm, some cold. He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed. A yawn from her, brings another smile to him: "How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head. He runs his fingers through her hair and is content. Yet, even if he is happy here, again - He is drawn to that window and finds himself Staring out at the street and watching; Marveling at the disparity and wonderin