We walk through crystal darkness,

                                    Stars shine out but bring no warmth,

                                    Our heels click sharply

                                    Against the icy hardness.

 

                                    One slips a little causing a

                                    Catch in conversation,

                                    Left hand to right we draw closer,

                                    Warming each other,

                                    Still we move along the way,

                                    Rhythmically,

                                    Almost as one.

 

                                    Quiet street,

                                    Low talk,

                                    Hearts beat,

                                    January night walk.

                                                                                                Cerita M. Moore

                                                                                                January 17, 1966