In mid-day room of lightless seeming, no light turned on and morose of sky dimmed in cloud of usual sunlight bright, they met in stand of meekness, their moods as sky—clouded and undefined.
Still, he smiled of the will and signing of his love—face and eyes soft-glow touched that warmed her own to shine, two meek lights in muted scene, warm tones of life where such was needed.
He took her hands into his own, holding low and off from sides, bodies close but only hands, brush of chests, and lips in match of touch. Fingers interlocked in twine as they kissed in the gray, a gentleness in feeling on a day that seemed too cold.
He loved her eyes, even in dim—her love he saw within and knew his own shone then for her.
No great and taking force of passion, it was an intimacy of being—being together—even in cold and days of gray they wished would live away.
“I love you,” he spoke.
“I love you too,” she answered.
To know was enough—to see and share and say, to feel in affirmation of soft gift-kiss.
Even in dim, even in gray—affirming and in love—eyes and smiles glowed.
Such is light in love.