The cold season been around,
For far too long to fear anything,
It was a moment to jump at,
So did I when I came around to it.
Sitting by the fireplace,
Over a cup of hot tea in hand,
I spent some time,
Reminiscing those moments.
Not ever having spoken,
In a bunch noises raised,
Catching stolen glimpses of the treasure,
With fire stoked in the heart,
Walking away to over the other side.
Judging art can be curious,
Proximity of the event,
An opportunity even.
To breathe in the scent of delight,
Attempting to be close,
Drinking in the flavor of the reason,
For that one who keeps any alive.