wintertime -the locket-

A summer's kiss and long awaited
smiles darkening into orange sun;
It's winter, here, but I am filled with
light at this four thirty-five, when
dusk has crept its way into the west.

The seasons change, we're always
          c  h  a  n  g  i  n  g
blending soft into the blurred edges of
photo lines, a polaroid for one and
ripped in two.
so which side faces right?

Our days pass slow, we're waiting with
clock snickering into our ears for spring's
enlightening thaw. But I met you in
wintertime, so maybe it's not so bad after all.

And watching colours paint themselves
upon our whitewashed walls I saw
the promise of a truth behind your eyes.
Yet you are still the knot I can't
unwrap from puzzlebox, you are the
maze of left and writes and every
breath you spill I want to capture
fogging up your father's windowsill; my
mind is fickle, now, and I forget. I
never want to lose this picture, fold
it up inside a locket once belonging to
someone's grandmother, keep your picture there,
replacing piece of hair. It's wintertime, but promise
of a love will keep me warm.