these winter months,
the biting cold,
the piping hot tea,
and all the colors
in between,
to me,
are you.

long walks
in the drizzling rain,
when I’d wear your jacket
throughout the day,
and long phone calls
with nothing to say,
to me,
are you.

the days I bundled
against bitter freeze
and the softer ones
with a mild breeze
and the laughing ones
when we’d both tease,
to me,
are you.

and the nights we cried
were the pouring rain,
and the times we fought,
clouds hung overhead,
and the noons we laughed
were the sunny days,
and love was the blanket
that kept us alive,
and this,
to me,
is you.