Winter's Kiss
Like a blanket, the leaves cover me. Red and green hues caress my face like lovers, their paper-sharp edges almost dangerous, threatening beauty. I am still, and I wait.
Winter comes all too quick, like a dog-bark. The snow falls gracelessly, whisked into a tornado by the ruthless wind. The drops of white diamond caress my face like enemies, frighteningly cold - fingers of the dead. I am still, and I wait.
You are frantic. Door-slam, feet-thump excited. You run to me, trailing the rose-petal sled behind you, thump meets tug. Under the dead leaves, eaten up by the cold, you are alive. You are electric. You are beautiful. You are the cosiness of a fireplace, the sweetness of hot chocolates on Sundays.
Face to face, we smile. Oh, how we have waited for the cold to warm us. Milky white teeth parade between strawberry lips, crooked and kind.
The sled fits two, barely. Sixteen means stringy limbs and awkward fits. I cling to your marshmallow coat, muted green, and think of blanket-leaves, of missing you. Christmas brings presents. My favourite? Your return.