Tag: Winter

She sits carelessly at the edge
of my weakened eyes.
I know what she wants.
I know what she needs.
She flits in and out of our
lives, carrying a depth we
cannot understand.

One day, she’s showering snow,
the next, she’s spitting rain down
on us and I am ready for her to
make up her mind.
I step outside to a burst of
cold air that wraps me up
instantly and settles in every
agile joint and I wince.

I layer up to deal with the
bitterness of her breath; my head
is completely covered.
My arms are flailing in protest.
What will the rest of this day bring?
It is half-past 10 in the morning;
the thermostat hasn’t budged.

I sneak back inside from a
dreaded walk, douse my hands
in warm water and soap, 
and, crawl under the comfort
of a thick blanket.

The other day, she blew a bit of
sun in our direction, falsifying
her presence.
I thought for sure, she’d
nestle up in my corner
and bank in on consistency.
I was wrong.

I talk to Winter. I tell her
how much I love her,
how much I appreciate her
yearly appearance, but we
have our disagreements.
I’m willing to acknowledge them
if she’s willing to be an adult
about her wishy-washy ways.

It is a quarter to 2 and the
afternoon is lingering on,
teasing me with her
physique. I’ve decided I’m
done being a toy for Winter.

She can run those
mind games on someone
else.

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Originally published in P. S. I Love You via Medium.