Thermal

The nursey fence cried icicles,
and our breath hung in the air
haunting us in exhaled heat.

We walked quicker for the nip
in the air that pinked our cheeks
and sought a way past our layers.

The sun rose but never showed,
concealed from sight -
the warmth of the day never was.

But the light was there in your face,
and the heat in glaces that past between us,
though we never touched a gloved hand to hand.