New England Snow

You and I

stayed up all night

talking about nothing

in the dim light of an old restaurant.

Outside,

your glasses fogged up

in the snow

and I felt your warm hand in those

leather gloves on the small of my back

grabbing for me as I almost slipped

on the ice.

And now you’re thousands of miles

and thousands of text messages away from me.

We tried to make it work,

somehow long distance always wins the battle.

Until next time

I can see you in the New England snow

with more walks around the Commons

and dinners in dimly lit restaurants.