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What is it about the icy fingers of winter that comforts me?
Why do I feel at ease with the wind howling at my shutters?
Is it because I feel that chill deep within to a secret place?
Through jacket, through skin, and through flesh she pierces.
Until I swear I’m longer girl, woman, but pure shining crystal.
Is it that I too feel as though I’m frozen through and through?
That one mistreatment would shatter me like an ice swan?
No, I am stronger than that now. I do not fear the frigid air.
I like the winter because she is undeniable, with no escape.
She will not bow, she will not relent. She simply is. As am I.
