Change of Seasons Part 2.

The summer raises its head for another chance at it
Another go
But I am thinking of winter
As I am sitting here sulking in my stocking feet and sipping on a cup of coffee
Ice
Icicles
Snow
Snow
Angels;
Today I played Bach on the piano,
The light glinted yellow on the window-pane -
I wished for cold
The kind that allows for the blowing of frosting onto the glass:
You don't exist in winter.
It's empty for you.
It's empty of you
It's empty.