This winter brings with it many things trapped within the winds.
Catch a cold frozen fresh one that whips a red frost on your cheek.
The slap of the wind on my face kisses me strangely and my
eyes tear with gratitude. It is a cold pleasure that brightens your
eyes. And still, it reminds me that I can feel you when you aren't
even looking.

So what of spring? What of summer? What of the fall?
We sprung, we summed it all up, and we fell.
Winter remains and its cold kisses accentuate
my hot, bleeding heart. I won't forget and I won't
exactly remember. A brand new plant will grow when
this barren season ends.