She looks at you with azure eyes.
Her cheeks flushed
and blue hair flowing down to her shoulders.
A long stream down her back.

She's smiling at you.
And her hand gently grasps yours.
Your hand feels no warmth from hers.
But it's not a bad feeling.

In a soft voice, she asks
"Would you mind if I
spent a bit of time with you?
It's very cold outside."

"And you feel so warm..."
She sounds a bit drowsy as she says this.
And her face rests
upon your shoulder.

You close your eyes for a split-second.
And her chest meets yours.
Her eyes gaze into your soul.
And two small hands touch your back.

The warmth you feel is heartfelt love.
The cold, the girl.
She's not a human being.
Just an unforgettable myth.

And as she curls up with you
You realize that
not all those we call monsters
Are beings of fear.

And as she curls up with you
You keep your promise
and keep her warm
On a cold november night.