The golden threads of sunlight appear whiping away the last remnants of stars.
I sigh as I walk back down the dusty trail, animals skittering left and right.
The frigid cold reaches my already chilled skin, this is the time I hate. This is Winter.
Some where up ahead a robin is calling to her friend the mourning dove. I smile and think of all they could say.
Stepping onto your porch I start to feel nervous, I glance at the harbored shadows and bit my lip.
You answer before I know knowing I am here pulling me into a warm tight embrace that leaves me without a breath.
Your eyes light up when I say hello and I no longer feel the frigid cold, but I see the stars that have long since gone staring back at me.
I sigh as I walk back down the dusty trail, animals skittering left and right.
The frigid cold reaches my already chilled skin, this is the time I hate. This is Winter.
Some where up ahead a robin is calling to her friend the mourning dove. I smile and think of all they could say.
Stepping onto your porch I start to feel nervous, I glance at the harbored shadows and bit my lip.
You answer before I know knowing I am here pulling me into a warm tight embrace that leaves me without a breath.
Your eyes light up when I say hello and I no longer feel the frigid cold, but I see the stars that have long since gone staring back at me.
