It's hand-in-hand;
No smiles or words,
Or silly side-way glances...
No modern trend
To seek "rewards"
Through intimate advances.
They simply stand,
So nobly calm;
Displaying no emotion...
Yet, hand-in-hand:
Her milky palm
Joins his with odd devotion.
Her hazel eyes
Cannot be read,
Like novel not yet written.
No truths, no lies;
Not bright, not sad;
A soul from others hidden.
And only he -
The special one,
Whose hand she gently squeezes -
Secures the key
To honeyed sun
Beneath the icy breezes...