Little Trains

My hands were Chilly Willy ! My grey charcoal threads were soaked to the bone . This morning was ordinary as can be , yet spirt was high .Another monsoon story today , life on the move always is blue , yet deeply satisfying. Today's breath fogged up my window to a small hole in the wall . My cologne dances away, these hands are cold on this little train , I love how she looks at me .