I try to collect moments of warmth in the winter.
I hold a cup of hot chocolate,
and the fire begins to glow.
The sun breaks through a hazy dawn,
and glimmers into my window.
But I can only find fleeting moments of warmth,
with pastel ice shining in the sunrise,
and frost gripping onto everything in sight.
I can finally bundle up now,
and my layers can hug me tight.
Scarcity turns warmth into luxury.
I search for it all around me.
But no one’s beside me as I run down this trail;
hot water runs down my spine to no avail.
Alone and silently,
I crave moments of warmth in the winter.