Strangers again, we start the usual script

Of pointless pleasantries and bland remarks

About the weather, the news, and our days.

I’d rather comment on your blue-green eyes

And how they captivate my weary heart

Despite the months gone by. If I were brave,

I’d mention how you’re letting your hair grow

As if you were preparing your visage

To be framed by it on a Christmas card.

You are dressed festively today, you know,

With the green jacket and the pom-pom hat.

I almost want to start a snowball fight

And grab hot chocolate with you right after.

But there’s no snow, and neither of us have gloves.

Perhaps a different adventure then?

“Not now,” you say, “I’ve other plans today.”

And that’s how I know we’re strangers again.