The skies of winter
have my name written
in pink and gray muted
hues, as though we had
been close friends once,
bonded together by the
falling snow within small
crevices of concrete and
truths, where the slightest
whistle was calling upon
the winds to join us – the
skies of winter are a lost
friend, long forgotten in
the blinding lights of the
holidays, buried inside a
forthcoming of snow as
though that were all they
had left to share with us.