Winter reminds me of home
One which crumbles as I write
It is a home I forget and
remember with glimpses
of sunlight
Or children's laughter

Home I once knew as my own
It is a city of cold, a crunch
   of scattered leaves beneath
tiny careless feet sprinted, tip-toed
through the park leaving prints
   now long covered
A park of trees lined so tall,
   I craned my neck in awe
with bright blue eyes
  like glistening bulbs
But those trees are smaller now
  for I have grown

It is the chill I
  remember, wind
biting my skin
  as I whimpered
desperate for a fire

It is snow-drop memories and
pink plump faces
   which grew to shapely bones
and knowing smiles

It is a smaller time
  lodged in my heart,
hardened
  with the brisk
November air.