“You are like the winter wind. I don’t like you very much, you arrive in November, I celebrate my birthday in your presence. You wish me by hugging me, sending chills through my entire being. Then we celebrate Christmas, running around covered from head to toe, in mufflers and socks and gloves.
And just when I start getting used to you being around, you turn your back onto me and whisk away, bringing flowers and greenery back that you had scared away.
I miss you a lot, I miss the hot chocolate that we used to have when we got too clingy, and the sweaters tucked away deep into the closet, taken out, remind me of you.
You still don’t come back, and the only things I have, are our memories shared in the driveway, and coldness erupts through me, making me forget you.
And then you come back again, after eight long months, introducing yourself again.”