In Zivago hat muffler and boots

she sits close on the Plymouth bench

seat her arm under mine so column

shifting's easy this crackling cold

starlit night of hard packed snow

and shoulder high drifts at Bondi's

blocked by a snow pile she slides

out the driver's side to my delight

as her sparkling eyes laugh at the

shear delight of being with me and

I with her

a spontaneous kiss that's held too

long begins our arm linked walk

through the notch in the drift by

the lamp post 

up the salted steps into dark wood  

walls warm with the dry heat of

wood fired ovens and flaming hearth

surrounded by friends at tables

Brio and Pizza her and I the

world at rest in each other's eyes.