It was a crisp winters day
In the middle of the season
The sun was bright blue with a dotting of a few white clouds

There was a cold wind whipping through the trees
It was bitter to the skin
Branches were bending to it as if they were dancing
Wind chimes could be heard in the distance

The snow was blowing around shifting location creating white dunes like cotton candy

The fireplace was burning with a fresh log creating a hypnotic warmth in the room
The wood gave off a pleasant scent as it burned
It was a good day to be inside

I look back at my poetry
The ones about sunshine
Strawberrys
And fresh breezes
To remind myself
That at some point
I was truly happy

Genuine like a child
Candid like an open book
Exotic like The Wild
Reassuring like a second look

I still pine
       for what I’ve lost
               the promise and
                               fulfillment.

I still search my memory
                for hidden fragments
                                 of that treasure.

     Time has covered
                some of them in
                            shadows of nostalgia.

     But the flaming pain
                        still brightly burns and
                                      tears will not extinguish it.
                        ljm