Under the Street Light
“There aren’t enough of them,” I said as we stopped below the dimly lit street light.
He looked at me confused as we weren’t counting anything and we didn’t need anything and we weren’t in search of anything aside from a nice evening and enough wine to make our blood warm. Because it’s a cold night in Colorado. And it seemed like a good idea.
I smiled at his perplexed stare.
His eyelashes sentenced stray snowflakes to a stay in limbo.
And I watched as one melted on the tip of his nose.
“The nights are too short,” I said. ” And soon enough we will have to sleep and get up and do it all over again. And I don’t want to. I just want to be here, watching the snow fall and the moments pass and the wine.” Yes, the wine. Find the wine.
And then he looked at me and said, “you’re sweet. And you’re right. There aren’t enough minutes.”
And I laughed to myself, because I was talking about the snowflakes.