Winter nights start early in the North.
Darkness drops before dinner.
.
The darkness the adults talk about.
With sharp diamond specks.
And fluid pleats of green and red
That drape the skies like watercolour symphonies.
.
They who are allowed to stay up past seven,
They get the stars all year long.
But us kids have to wait almost ’til Christmas.
.
Winter is our chance to see the true dark of night.
.
The moon is in the summer nights
And the days, too, if you know where to look.
But she is shy.
A placeholder.
Winter is her time.
She brings life to snow and throws shadows in the dark
I marvel at her beauty
And feel myself old for the very first time.
About the Creator
Chris Yanda
I write words. Some of those words make people laugh. Sometimes for the right reason.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts4 days ago in Longevity
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