We kissed like Eskimos, with just each nose,
when it was cold outside and lips could freeze,
though thanks to inner warmth they never froze
despite the biting from a Northern breeze.
Years later, though, the love itself grew cold,
and we no longer kissed like Eskimos,
and, far apart, we now are growing old
and share no more those kisses in the snows.
But just as warmth returns anew in spring,
so love returns to us that never ends,
enduring even winter’s bitter sting:
the treasured, warm, and sacred love of friends.
We love each other now, as heaven knows,
though we no longer kiss like Eskimos.
Mario A. Pita