You meet me outside your door,
cheeks slightly flushed.
Your hand is still cold
from the railing
you held while waiting.
Your smile is small.
We walk down your street
without speaking,
letting the night settle
around us.
The soft crush of snow
beneath our shoes
sounds like the laughter
of a child.
In the quiet
between our steps,
something new gathers.
It is just past dusk.
Snowflakes begin to drift
sideways, cutting across
the warm breath
of the city.
The trains hum
beneath everything.
I wonder
where we are going,
guided by love.
About the Author: Jacob Friesenhahn is the author of the poetry collection The Prayer of the Mantis (Kelsay Books, 2025). This poem appears here for the first time.