The weather is changing
and I can't sleep.
Daylight savings
dream only of killing
my circadian cycle.
This is it for us,
Winter, you treat
me like a window.
Open me up
and blow cold air
all through me.
Yet you're so lovely,
at least you use to be.
What happened
to your crisp snow,
or frosted glass roses
that I remember so clearly
from my childhood?
You see right through me,
and you left me gross
and staring at soggy black snow
on the side of the road.
Winter, you became cruel to me,
still somehow I see you the same
as you use to be back home.
