Clear Night

He didn't believe in much anything. He was a cynic, a bitter guy...
I knew this because I looked. You know these things when you look into someone's eyes. His were a deep blue. And I sang; we sang, through the night, in perfectly crisp winter weather, across one another, on opposite sides of the fire.
And we sang. And made up lyrics.
And sang.
"You missed the last verse," I told him.
"It's obsolete," he said.
I knew. You know these things, when you sing into blue eyes.