A gloomy morning,
With thick fog and dew,
Being so chilled with a hazy view,
Looking out the window, at the trees –
The long black branches, bare of any leaves,
Scrap of paper lie to the right of me.
Imagination took me far to a land unknown.
Where I begin to feel the cold
Howling, bellowing, beckoning sound of distress...

The seasons were waning fast,
Nights were growing cold at last.
September extinguished itself in a rush of howling wind and driving rain.
October arrived with apricity; a bit sweet and salty.
November’s with hard frosts morning and night being cold as frozen iron.
December’s wintery breathe is already clouding the pond.
Flashback of days gone by,
Turn my experience into a reflective one;  blocking me from reality.
And sometimes, I don’t bother so I walk down the road.

A shivering and foggy winter morning,
People enjoy warm bed, hot food and drinks and merriments.
Melancholy are the sounds on a winter night.
Thus, look so mystic and a divine feeling.
I can’t deny my dislike towards cold temperatures,
So,  I choose to walk with a big jacket and a wand,
Tucked in my pocket dreaming to see the spring.
But I remind myself of how privileged I’m, to sit here,
Pouring my ink onto paper about the beautiful warm winter days.

Waquil