I think of the pure, white fallen snow
I think of crunching underfoot,
I think of leaves with a frosted edge.
I think of the sharp smell of ice and the stinging of fingers when you touch it.
I think of the glittering when sunlight shines on the frozen blanket
as if it covers thousands of diamonds.
I think of the dark sky stretching above me,
tiny crystalline drops falling from the clouds.
I think of roaring fires,
Orangle and yellow lights, flickering in the room.
The rich smell of cocoa mingling with the scent of the flames.
I think of windows steaming up,
as cold from the outside meets the heat of the inside.
I think, not of death and of bitter cold,
but of beauty.
Trees lined with white and silver and houses topped with magical icing,
That's what I think of, when you say winter.