It's hand-in-hand;

No smiles or words,

Or silly side-way glances...

No modern trend

To seek "rewards"

Through intimate advances.

They simply stand,

So nobly calm;

Displaying no emotion...

Yet, hand-in-hand:

Her milky palm

Joins his with odd devotion.

Her hazel eyes

Cannot be read,

Like novel not yet written.

No truths, no lies;

Not bright, not sad;

A soul from others hidden.

And only he -

The special one,

Whose hand she gently squeezes -

Secures the key

To honeyed sun

Beneath the icy breezes...