Title-- Cold Hands
Rating and Warnings-- G; extreme sappiness lies within. Oh, and there's (harmless) yuri. :D
Summary and Notes-- Written as part of daily15 to this prompt--took me 14 minutes for 677 words. This is a fictionalization of a real experience... heck, it's not even that fictionalized. XD.

( Her hands were always cold... )

I love you, dearest gileonnen. =^_^=

I think of her when I see the myriad flowers that spatter color amidst the wood,
The trees beginning to flesh out their bare winter branches with newborn green,
The expanse of sky in springtime, so clear and pure and blue.

I think of her when I hear the birds sing sweetly to each other high in the trees,
The cheerful babble of a creek buried in woods still untouched by man,
The lazy sounds of a sultry harmonica or heart-tugging electric guitar.

I think of her when I feel the warm wind kiss my skin lightly and teasingly,
The sun beating down upon me and lulling me into a delicious drowsiness,
The pressure of a living body against mine, sharing in space and love.

I think of her when I smell the natural perfume of the forest, green and hot,
The spices of an exotic meal cooking in someone's open-windowed kitchen,
The beautiful, intoxicating, lingering scent that is hers and hers alone.

I think of her when I breathe in the sweet air, be it cold or hot or perfectly warm,
When my heart beats strong in my chest and my blood surges through my body,
When my eyes open to the raw, primal, sacred beauty around me.

I always think of her...