Today has been a good day.

The sun isn’t shining and the rainbows aren’t gracing the sky, but today is a good day.

The snow is falling and it’s as white as it can be.

A couple is holding hands walking down the street.

Her hair is the color of autumn and her skin is the color June.

If June were a color it would be the silky brown of clay on an ancient cave that carries the paintings of people long long ago.

He is fair.

Fairer than the eyes should see.

The milky richness of his skin is as creamy and smooth as an ice cream made with love.

The colors of their hands entwine as her soft June skin blends and bleeds into the fine lines of his rich cream.

Her eyes are so deep and serene that he can’t help but stare into them until he sees nothing but gold.

And his lips are so pure that she can’t help but to taste them all on her own.

I look away for this is not my scene.

Who am I to serendipitously take part in their ecstasy.

So I turn back to the snow as it falls onto the love birds below and dream of the day when my lips shall meet another’s and become one.

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