Winter

By: K.L.


My mind was lost. From the gray sky fell a furry of white flakes, the bitter wind tossing them back and forth during their descent. How my heart could relate to those small flakes: such a fragile thing tossed back and forth within the walls of my chest. Yet how could they do it? Fall from the sky, endure the abuse and still land perfectly in the palm of my gloved hand without a scratch, its crystal lattice intact. Did they not feel? … If that were the case then my desire to be like them intensified tenfold.

Winter is my season, though many may have thought summer better reflected my nature. I was gentle like a summers breeze, warm was my smile, and bright was my aura. That is what they believe and perhaps it is best to leave them in such blissful denial, for I am none of those things and to say so may shatter their fragile hearts. Yes it is best to leave them in the dark, if only to save me from the waves of concern.

Why winter though you may ask? Winter is beautiful to the eye but underneath sleeps a monster. When the sun glistens off the white surface all seems peaceful but what was it that made this so? Initially it had to be cold enough to remain – numbness. Above looms a blanket of gray – lifeless. And for months at a time it will remain, a desert of white – emptiness. Winter is my season – a reflection of all the horrors that lay within clawing and scrapping their way to the surface. That is who… no not who, that is what I am, beneath the smile, a mere façade to my true self.

Winter is my season as summer is yours.

You are my opposite in so many ways.

Your warmth makes something within me melt. The smile you wear and the laugh you bear are not hollow like mine. No, they are full of love and life. It is reserved for the few who have managed to creep into your heart; an emotion so true.

From my barren patch of earth I watch, praying that just once I can be blessed with such a smile, that I may be the source of such beauty and life.

Without knowing it you have become the wind within my chest that batters my heart back and forth. You are the reason for which I can hope… someday… that even something so empty, so lifeless… can be loved too.


A.N: To be honest Winter is my favourite season for even through the sheer harsh nature of it remains a true, untainted beauty. In China the Plum blossom will only bloom during such bleak of conditions - through the snow it shines with such intense beauty. Winter is my season through and through. It is what makes me most happy, the sea of white bringing to my heart a gentle flutter. It is home.