In winter, more than just the cold swoops in.
The hard times,
the long nights,
the burning wood is something you must accept.
Although you sit in a tight ball,
wondering why you feel like this every year,
it doesn't change that this season reappears.
Christmas and New Years aren't times of celebration anymore.
They're simply mile markers of how far away the sunshine is.
but, the sunshine isn't spring anymore.
It's the joy that's seeped out of my very existence.
I hope one cold wintery day I awake and can find beauty in these simple things.
Yet, it's not that simple.
I've grown too fond of summer rain.