Outside, the light is bright and frosted
I’m wrapped up like a baby, swaddled.
Walking I pass others, they too are hidden
our sense of fashion has been overridden.
Cloaked in layers upon layers
from head to toe, only my face is visible.
I’m joyous in the winter sun
then miserable, as the wind shifts and bites.
Thin winter skin,
too delicate for these cold nights.
But there’s a light, at the end of the long winter tunnel.
A place with no snow, no need to huddle.
Only twelve more days ’til my toes feel the sand,
My face feels the sun, there’s a drink in my hand.