We stood there with icy raindrops slinking down the flipped up collars of our coats.
The rain was loud, the sun was drifting like it was ashamed of something.
We had to yell just to hear each other.
There were sorrels and grays milling around an old, broken down corral.
They all had frozen chunks of mud clinging to the hump in their backs.
I guess it wasn't romantic, not really, but the way he kissed me made it seem like it.
My cold fingers wrapped around his warm hand and he looked at me with sharp green eyes.
They used to be the only eyes that could cut through me. Used to be.
I had a bridle hanging over my shoulder, I could see the engraved copper hood out of the corner of my eye.
I curled my cold toes in my muddy boots trying to run some circulation back through them.
I watched and wondered how so much spirit could be packed into one cowboy's body, I had the same curiosity about the horses he rode.
He put one foot in the stirrup, checked his hat down tight on the way up, collected the little horse and trotted out, looking over his shoulder, grinning.
And I just stood there. In the rain, with icy teardrops running down the flipped up collar of my coat.
And I was only dreaming. Just dreaming. Go back to bed. It's too late to be up. How can I turn my mind off, how can I shut down the memories? I need to sleep. Goodnight.