San Francisco, CA

There isn’t anything I don’t love about winter
The cold air
The frozen ground
The painted sky
And you, next to me
Wearing layers, making us look three times our normal size
And the snow, that is, if you’re lucky enough to get snow
The lingering presence of happiness in the air
And the sound the ice on the ground makes when you step on it
Pale faces and rosy cheeks
And the burning of your hands when you go inside
And the idea that every single snowflake that falls
Is not like the other
And yet, they’re all beautiful
And those mornings when the sky looks like the shiny ombré pattern
On some dumb t-shirt of a 12-year-old girl
Who isn’t quite ready to grow up just yet
Who enjoys the cold air and the frozen ground
And who loves the snow oh so much
And sees the beauty in its flakes
And is devastated when winter ends
Because everything must come to an end
Much like this poem