the autumn died a sudden death
the last leaves of fall
all but wrenched from the autumn’s dying fist
it rained the day winter came
like a eulogy for the last warm days

at night my bones are chilled
and my bed fills me with a little warmth
I am happy in this cold
it is my old dear friend
every shiver proves that I am yet alive

and night comes early
days are mercifully short
cold and night my happy times…

while the world shivers and hides in warmth
I dance like the wind, blowing like a piece of fluff
in the coldest bliss

and people are weird…
They ask me if I do not get cold
do they not realise that I do
but
that I love the cold…

I love its fingers down my spine
its icy breath giving me goosebump kisses
all
over
my
skin…

I love the paleness it paints on my skin
no summer brown tan,
dear gods no…

the cold is my lover, my friend
It brings me back to life…

in my core, by being, my winter soul
I will ever be, winter’s child

(c) 2016 Allen Simpson

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