I put a finger on the candle flame. The lights are out. It's past midnight in November, I am too cold to get out from under the blanket. You play a song from a long-ago summer, last century, way before we were both born. My toes are numb from the cold but I can taste summer in my mouth, candy floss dissapearing in your tongue, warm rain in our hair and the colours of the sky. It is mid-November but it could just as well be May, tonight. What is time for us, as long we are together. What is time for us as long as you are here, be here the next time November comes. Time for us is the joy of being alive.
