Like a sheet of ice at sea,
surrounded by your warm embrace,
my sense, replaced by sentimental midsummer madness,
in the middle of winter,
waiting for your answer.
You held me,
like the ocean holds weathered ships,
gentle but uncertain,
your eyes, half closed as the clock struck twelve,
and you leaned down,
without a word,
kissing your answer onto my fevered forehead.
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