Don’t speak to me of winter,
I know it’s coming fast;
Long summer days, warm summer nights,
Were never meant to last.
Don’t chill the air with frosty words
And make a bigger hole
Where warmth will leak and color leach
From pockets of my soul.
Instead, read me spellbinding tales
Of lands with balmy breeze
Where I can bask, bundled in bliss,
When digits start to freeze. Copyright 2013 © Sonya Annita Song