Winter is the most beautiful to me
frigid and urban.
I like to walk through misted streets and
breathe in the frozen air,
see street lights crystallised, fairies hanging from trees,
in my grey-wool coat.
Envelope myself in coffee-shop chairs and warmth,
let the world pass outside steamed windows;
watch the people with coloured scarves and hats.
Close my hands around red paper patterned cups,
sweet-bitter scent.