The First Winter

I got a whole lot of nuthin’ and so, sharing this older piece. I wrote this when I still believed in happy endings and in winters that didn’t last forever…

The Eclectic Poet

The room was cold, god knows the last time they’d been able to pay the heating bill.
Winter had descended on Indiana while they slept.
He had woken first, cold because she had stolen the better part of the one thin blanket on their bed.
When he wrapped himself round her to share it, the first slivers of dawn slanted through the frost glazed window.
Brilliant, cold and beautiful, creating Chantilly lace patterns across the bare floor of their room.
His artist’s heart ached with the beauty of it, this exquisite gift from December and he felt hope stir again.
It had been absent for a very long while…
He looked down at her, gently brushed the errant curls out of her eyes, whispered her name.
When she opened her eyes, a sleepy reproof on her lips; he touched a finger to them and gently turned her face to the…

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