Winter was my season:
of course, it lasted a while,
so one learned to like it.
The cold would nip at my lungs
with frozen bites:
I didn't mind.
The snow crunched underfoot,
whispering secrets only
it trusted me to keep;
knowing what we talked about
would stay between
the snow and I.
The fireplace would wait
patiently, a reward for
shoveling the driveway,
ready to warm my body
after a hard
afternoon's work.
Christmas was magical:
memories of special times
spent with my family.
I believed Santa was real,
although he wore
my daddy's boots.
Winter was my season:
of course, it lasted a while,
so I learned to love it...
and oh, how I miss it now.
In my mind, I
go home a lot.

(c) 2005, Karla Dorman.