December
They used to smell like Christmas,
her peppermint bite
his sharp pine essence,
their smiles laden with soft kisses
in the candlelight,
their hands entwined
like roots snaking through the dirt
in the desperate fight for stability
and home.
They slept through the night,
through every storm
and any weather,
their hearts beating as one,
the fire raging as hot as their skin
in the dead of winter,
where ice fractures the moonlight
and rain falls in light, fluffy flakes.
They would smell of cinnamon and vanilla,
of elation and comfort,
but the snow melted into
flowing icy waters,
the grey skies churned to blue,
and their thoughts darkened
until the thunder reigned not in the skies,
but within.
Their skin grew cold
in the warm spring air
and their hearts turned sour,
beating out of touch.
They used to smell of Christmas,
of smoke and ginger,
of family and affection,
but Winter is over,
and so are they.
by Cameron Roper, 11