Everything is relative
The hand warmers in my back pockets make no heat through my jeans
But when put in my bra they heat my heart like no other
Relatively speaking
Relatively speaking it is all relative
Your temperature transferred to me
A gift shared from hand to hand as we walk the aisles
Eventually passed back as a gift from another that knew not the source
But simply thought to give a bit of warmth
Paying a little forward toward a lot later
A touch of blush during a blustery night
And an offered ride home
To avoid the snow
It wasn't supposed to come
But it got so cold
One less walk to freeze my bones
And two hand warmers shaken and seeping into my clothes
One day and one night to shiver
Under the silver sliver
And white flakes
You say it's not snow but that's what you know as an eskimo
But there are 50 words in their language
And at least one must mean this mist of moisture
Because everything is relative.
~Mad'm