Winter
I was born on the cusp of winter So naturally, I felt I must be married to the snow and to cold weather To black ice, hybernation, and great big godly storms Winter gave birth to me, and I loved her out of obligation A bitter right of passage The summer I met you, my hair had finally started to grow long I had cut it, an awful butchered bob gifted to me in late December Tied by my own shaky hands and seasonal lack of judgment I was learning to be gentle with myself, cradle my own skin What one does in the winter to survive must be left in the cold Only a fool brings a coat into the heat of summer You were always very good about that, leaving things in their respective time But perhaps that was because you were born on the brink of new beginnings Grace and growth came easy to you Spring exuding, though winter in your Spring's soft shadow You embodied both the worst and best of each year The summer you met me, you decided to make some changes To stick around even when the