I
In the winter air,
Our breath,
Mini clouds,
Form shapes
And hang there
Like silver decorations.
It mingles
With steam
Rising quickly
From woollen hands
Holding spiced wine
And cinnamon sticks,
And dissipates
Amongst the mistletoe.
Your cheeks
Are like
Toffee apples,
Hair like ribbons.
Your lips are gifts
I want to unwrap.
And I wish it could be Christmas everyday
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