Happiness is

cuddling with your best friend

on a snowy day

and finding that

the only emptiness inside you

is where the pain used to be

I'm trying to navigate through life,
but the roads are iced over
and this vehicle wasn't built
for the treachery of snowy slopes.
My tires turn at odd angles,
oscillating wildly in their attempt
to catch some semblance of traction.
But the snow bank is getting closer
and no matter how I twist the wheel
I can't seem to steer away from
what seems to be impending impact.

Cold days and snowy nights
dissolve into the glow
when we come home from the sweater weather.
In from the cozy autumn day.
In from a day in which sunlight
dappled the tree's bark
like the zig-zagged icing
and french dough.
A day of mittens so only your thumbs protrude.
A day like kittens which tumble in
happiness and innocence.
Into the oak, with the window
in which tear drops
chase themselves away
down the pane and
the cool air is made hot
with cocoa frothy cream
and pumpkin.
We smoke on curled cinnamon sticks
which splinter like burnt logs
on an fire of embers.
The silhouettes of our shadows
catch on the horizon
as we watch the spectrum
scatter from the warm
cream to the dusty
pumpkin to cocoa.