tingling
of warm blood pumping into cold hands
of skin contracting under near-zero temperatures
street lights soft
in the hazy condensation of winter air
turned on early
in the perpetual dusk of Vancouver's winter days
right, right and right again
a mental map impressed
my virtual guide reconstructed over
in the misty forest raindrops scattered
it was the impression of the contour of your face
in the glare of the moonlight
shoes on my feet were
our shoes still, from years ago
if you stood still you'd hear
the hush from the trees
symphony of hard cold rain
but I have to go before the tingling cold
creeps in again
I wasn't prepared to stay