We've never met,
at least not yet.
My year-ends are usually,
in a sundress or a bikini.
Just the other day, I opened my door at dawn.
The chill in the air made me think, who is it that's born.
From the desert sun of 98 to an unannounced 52,
I asked myself, is that you?
I have to admit the beauty of the sunsets,
although I know tomorrow my windshield will be frosted.
As I warm up the car until I'm fine,
I silently curse daylight savings time.
Even though I've not yet encountered, a white Christmas
please be kind as you approach us.
About the Creator
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Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandell6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Really nice poem ✍️
very beautiful poem...loved it...keep it up....it gives full winter vibes..you can go and checkout my work too if you wish to
I'd be all in for a white Christmas, but then again, I am a child of winter. Great wintery poem.