fog

the wintry morning of January..
to stay back, a reason.
to love you back,
and the fire too..
in gloves and the view outside..
i shiver,
the fog condensed on glass..
to wipe it off..
and then to go back to you.
the few steps of rising wilderness..
to hold your hand..
and be with that subtle assurance..


but things are costly..
so were you..
your hand..
the fire..
love..