Whispers held underneath
the mistletoe;
silencing the green atmosphere
and bonding the candle flames.
As the gifts are being presented
and the party is in celebration,
we stand together -
Waiting
For the moment.
One step closer, and I succeed -
your face now in my palms.
I smile.
The winter cold cannot even chill
the warmth rising to your cheeks.
My fingers run past the decoration
placed in your pine scented hair.
Not another minute to spare. . .
With a kiss that tastes like fruitcake,
I make a sweet victory at last.
Honorable mention
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