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