Winter is a trickster.
From my window,
cloudly, forlorn days look cold, and sunny, bright days look warm.
Snow can float in a graceful ballet,
but those same gentle flakes can produce a brutal bite.
Without their green garments
tree limbs, bushes and grass seem dead.
So many things are nothing like they seem.
Like my hopeless thoughts, like my endless pain.
Life is a trickster, indeed.
She held the future in her arms
the day that I was born.
And she shared the wisdom of her years
even after I was grown.
She was always there for me to call
on Sundays, I could depend.
She always had nice clothes to give
or a romance book to lend.
All my life I’ve felt her love
it’s made my heart secure.
And I see her more and more each day
when I look into the mirror.
Sometimes I feel normal –
like nothing has changed.
Sometimes I feel disassociated –
like I don’t know who I am.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed –
like I don’t know what to do.
Sometimes I feel relieved –
like I have a burden lifted.
Sometimes I feel embarrassed –
about the thoughts and feelings I have.
But I know, it is what it is, now –
and I can cope – sometimes.