driving along thick ice and tamped down snow,
passing horses and a stray grey cat,
i slow down at an expanse of farmland,
roll my window down, as the music hums softly in the background,
and take a big, cold breath of a Pennsylvania morning in February
it seemed as if you were on the verge of speaking,
and i would have hung on your every word
while lace umbrellas caught the sun’s raining rays,
the greenhouse welcomed us with a warm embrace
if i could be a bridge at dusk,
i’d carry you gently into the night
winter whispers his name,
and he does not fail to answer
happiness is red flowers in winter
she always knew when to come up for air
the dog growled, and i wanted to growl back
i heard that song on the radio that always reminds me of you
the sky is perpetually grey, but it warms me just the same
there are times when laughing seems closely related to crying
winter is a state of mind
if only i could sit next to you once again
like a tattoo on my spirit,
you marked me forever
spanishwoods 