I see you standing there at my window, with snowflakes dancing behind you. Your warm hands fogging up the cold glass as the heat of your breath melts the air. Condensed vapor rising skyward like we once did.

When I was too young and naive to understand the hydrologic cycle and the great forces of gravity.

We're just two birds that flew past one another a long time ago, while searching for a warmer place and just being lucky enough to find warmth in one another. If only temporarily.

But now as I look at you through the obscurity of a hazy window and the emotional buffer of time. You don't seem to glow as much as I once remembered. It was then when I realized that time changes all things.

Just as time brought the chill of winter, so did it numb to sting of lost perfection.

Further subduing the yearning was the promise that tomorrow brings a new season. With its own take on perfection.