Vanilla glaze snow,

A new year, new beginning.

Promises don’t last.

Time to find true love,

But for those who don’t want to,

What lie does it hold?

Green buds start to bloom,

Luck will surely be abound.

For some, anyway.

A faint drizzle falls,

Embracing the drenched flowers,

Life concealed in gray.

Sleeping until noon,

The world’s awake, but I’m not.

Maybe tomorrow.

Basking in the sun,

Reflections and rainbows fly,

Hope and light emerge.

Blistering, scorching,

A deathly humidity,

That will never end.

Back in the routine,

Drag myself awake at dawn,

I want it to stop.

Seasons start to change,

Leaves weep and fade to crimson,

Sharper with the cold.

Large, orange pumpkins,

Sit starkly against the black,

With bright, plastered grins.

Barren, plain branches,

Stiff with biting, bitter winds.

Fleeting hope is lost.

Force a smile wider,

It’s the best time of the year.

Well, I hope it is.