Selective Beauty

This story was written like a poem, I intended for it to be poetic, but many kept telling me it was more of a story.

She called it cold, the snow falling
Down about them in the frozen wonderland.
Yet he took her hand and smiled,
"No its pretty."
"No its cold," she half argued as a smile
Cracked across her lips.
"No, its pretty, like you."
His words were simple,
A loving gesture
That once said he could not have known how much it meant.
Her smile grew, her chapped lips
Curving upward, like a crescent moon
Placed on its side.
The wind whistled around the pair of them.
Carry a tune of ice, for what is snow
Other than crystalized water, frozen and cold.
Its beauty possessed in its fragility,
And its strength. Much like the girl
Who him made smile.
Her greatest weakness coming from the warmth
Shared between two beating hearts.
And her strength lying in the same warmth,
Yet also in her ability to hold herself up if need be.

The snow drifting flakes that surround
The two of them pick up their speed.
The frozen crystals still beautiful yet terrifying.
Their delicate features, not a single alike,
Swirling around them as the temperature drops.
He pulled her closer to keep the cold away,
Wrapping his arms quietly around her
And began walking towards the safety of the indoors.
As they enter and the door closes behind them
Shutting out the howling of the wind,
And the stinging of the cold.
The two of then remove their coats and boots
As she looks out the window at the still falling snow.
Her mouth in a line.
He walks up behind her and wraps his arms around.
She says, "maybe I'm cold like the snow too."
He kisses her cheek and sighs before saying,
"Like the snow you are many things,
You are soft and beautiful, you are unique
And carry yourself on the wind."
Her eyes glance at him,
"But snow is also sharp and harsh,
It causes storms and frostbite,
Bringing chill into the life of others."
He chuckles a little and looks in her eyes,
"My dear, snow is used to build shelter and
Protect others from the wind,
It keeps out as much cold as it contains.
Snow is happy memories, of angels
And moments spent together."

She looked back in his eyes at a loss for words,
Still unsure as to how he could find her to be so beautiful.
Still not knowing how it was possible that even
As he looked at something that could cause
Such complete destruction
And havoc in a single gust.
And still say that the snow was beautiful like her.
For he was right, the snow and her
Were one in the same,
Beautiful, cold, warm, fragile, strong, destructive, helpful.
He stared into her silent eyes and
Nuzzled his cheek to hers,
Whispering quietly,
"The snow is beautiful like you,
And I only choose to see that beauty."