Winter Love

Of the few things that aren't reversible in this universe according to thermodynamics or any such damn theory, Love is the best one. I don't really know what I mean by reversibility, but I guess I wanted to say that it doesn't quite happen the way it's like every time.
I was standing in a different world. She was feet away. The cold and dry winter wind was all that separated us. Or, it appeared so.
She was all the forms of art could be-a painting, a poem or perhaps music. I didn't care. We were together;

in the best Winter of my life.