We stood among the spindle trees; letting their frozen fingertips tangle in our figures and the soft earth from which they fed to line the rough soles of our feet with bashful kisses. As we crouched low the strands of our hair caught and were held aloft, creating a spiderweb of russet and caramel. We watched one another through the tickling light, the shadows of our faces only growing stronger, till like the moon, craters of darkness completed our complexation. Yet despite the omniscity of our bodies our eyes were fixated. Across matching pale cheeks and sunken eyes they traveled, as the air shivered with the mingling thoughts of intimacy. The trees sighed their withered songs of the future, watching as fingertips met. Two hands, identical in hidden matrimony. Each grew colder than the other, until their blood became so icy that it began to burn. Like fevered passion it swept up their arms and up to their faces, which twisted in the light and gleamed speckled smiles. As their hair brushed, intermingling with a whisper of osculations, their faces tilted. They fell together then, until finally two lips met and their tainted eyes shut, blocking out the prying sun so that they were alone and just another secret that the forest kept.