The weather's sudden turn reminded me
Of something you once said: the winter chill
Which comes whenever it decides it will,
Is not that cold. Or rather, should it be
As bitter as I often think, then we
Could find a way around it. If you still
Believed what you said then, that love can kill
The worst in us, and summon faithfully
The warmth that supercedes the wind and snow,
I might not notice what surrounds me now,
Swirling down to smother me with frost.
But somewhere in the spring, I don't know how,
You left that warmth behind, and turned to go.
I hope you have it back - for mine is lost.
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