The obscurity of growing older as a sigh on your lips

We were people, all of us with mouths to kiss

The significance of words, of a man, blood in the sun as the crimson to which we pray

Woke us in our beds this morning, and determined the course of our day

The sound of an engine rumbling in the morning frost

The warming of hands, of sleepiness lost,

The day that you and I close our eyes,

And see with our fingers

That I would ask a crimson question, to you of your desire

To walk out by the universe, or to stay in by the fire?  

I think I know how you will answer, you, in a way so wild

To taste the snow on your tongue, in the way you did as a child

To touch the pine needles of a changing life,

The evergreens of yesterday and tomorrow,

You and I leaning on the branches, with the bodies we borrow

In this time before we close our eyes,

And see forever the earth where we lie

But today, our cheeks grow red in the cold

Our footsteps echo down the cobblestones

Tourists of the moonlight, but admirers of the Christmas lights

Where we can only raise our eyes above our heads, and wonder at the sight

The history of you and I, and of our walking shoes,

Carrying us under the incandescent bulbs, and all of space and time   

That we exist, this is the only proof

That we have existed together, is the greatest wonder of ours, and of mine

Because life is but a long trip together under the Christmas lights.