This Cold Morning In December
Some memoirs are just hard to erase because they are sorrow,
That cold morning in December last year!
When I peeked through the window,
And I unsealed my lungs to breathe in
A breath wandering for warmth, after a glance of frost!
Whoever knows how cold it’s in winter, will accede with me,
How hard it’s to swallow the cold breeze.
Looking back in the review, blazing wood.
I may need a heavier duvet to shelter me,
Or an open wing willing to cover my skin,
Towards only a single memoir of a touch!
This warmth is for today not for tomorrow,
Princess shall you cover me like you cover your own skin?
Look out for warmth?
Erect a tepid fortress for only two of us?
Because I believe in you, I believe in us.
Another cold day in December,
Should seize with you ubiquitous.
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Copyright © Emmanuel Brian Oule | Year Posted 2012