Hands as cold as the glaciers in the arctic,
but with eyes of flames.
As I hold your palms in mine,
though chills course through my veins.
Snowflakes dances on your finger tips,
yet I've never felt this kind of warmth.
Interlocked as one, like ying and yang.
Hand of the arctic,
yet without you I'm cold
YOU ARE READING
Pond of Thoughts
Short StoryA collection of short stories that I've written, each about a different feeling I've had that can relate to another person one way or another
