It’s growing colder every passing day,

The wintery breath clouding my summer’s memories.

“How did it get late so soon?” I ask myself.

“It’s December”, says the piercing, old wind as I clench my skin.

I see those coloured lights blinking down the streets. 

Happy gazes, cherished laughter, joyful spirits filling the air.

Shadows follow the fire that lit up the alley.

“It’s December,” says the piercing, old wind as I clench my skin.

Out there I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.

Believe me it was magical, something sweet to remember!

A moment to survive the loneliness of life.

“It’s December,” says the old, piercing wind as I clench my skin.

They say it’s the season to start fresh.

They say it’s the season to reflect at your mistakes.

Spring is too busy to live the perfect life.

You need the silence to have the clarity in your life.

And the wind softly whispers to me, It’s December, my dear.”