Between the Shadows

Arm in arm we walked down
second street, on a frosty
night in November.
Each street light we passed
flickered at our steps
and electricity crackled
in the air.

But still from the ground
a mist slowly rose,
rolled in between us obscuring
my view. Hot breath
from lungs morphed to mist,
droplets lukewarm
when they reached you.

The fog grew thicker
when we reached your house,
too thick to permit
more than a chaste kiss.
I wandered off blindly,
without satisfaction, believing
perhaps at our third rendezvous
you might widen the crack
in the door.

Then my hot breath
would reach you more quickly,
the fog wouldn't enter,
unseen stars might align,
and perhaps in the shadows
between knowing and being
we might retain something
of each.