Invierno.

Everyone spits out your name or tries
to impress with animated metaphors
and rehearsed tones, but not I...

I admire your abraded tail,
enveloping me in climates
I am too young to understand.

I will mature into you.

You are not dead branches or
lovers moderated by
less than ideal conditions;
you are not lonely park benches
or glossy slopes that
confidence seems to falter on.

-
Am I at peace because you live?

-
Written 12/23/13 @ 3:13 PM
Listening to Ludovico Einaudi's piano composition "Fuori dal mondo"