Walks

Cold Nights are what we are.
Gentle breezes with the chill,
Brittle leaves on the window sill and
The warmth of memories.

Cobbled streets are what we are.
Gentle blocks pressed in,
Brittle sounds of our footsteps and
The warmth of their imprint.

Streetlights are what we are.
Gentle fog in their light,
Brittle shade trying to seep in and
The warmth of their yellow light.

Trees are what we are.
Gentle sway of life,
Brittle rustling of their branches and
The warmth of their smell.

Park benches are what we are.
Gentle curves of wood,
Brittle, rusted nails and
The warmth of our embrace.

The Night Sky is what we are.
Gentle movement of the clouds,
Brittle twinkle in the stars and
The warmth in their magic.

A walk is what we are.
Gentle movement of your hand in my hand,
Brittle sparks around us and
The warmth of being what we are.