We take a walk down to the rivers edge,
trailing the wooden planks that host our feet above the water,
dried pine needles evoke the smell of winter,
you hold my hand,
nothing but dried brush and a chilled air greet us,
we make our way down the trail reaching a dead end,
we sit down on the platform and allow the silence to swallow us,
I dare not let go of your hand,
partially because it brings me warmth,
mostly because it is the first time I hold it without fear,
we stare at each other for hours,
I never leave that place.