"Do you remember, beneath the frosted moon, how we lingered at the edge of silence?"
Her whispers melted like glacial streams.
His breath, a winter's sigh, caressed the edges of the stars...
"In dreams, our paths are woven with threads of frost and fire, are they not?"
The question hung like a chandelier of icicles, each desire a droplet waiting to fall.
"In this frozen realm, your soul reflects off mine like a memory reborn."
They stood, two figures against the lapis dusk, arms brushing like whispers.