Seasonal Pass

Through every season,

it was only winter the bridge met.

Winter, 

as cruel and disheartening,

was the only one who could hold me as he does.

The only one whose touch could burn my skin,

yet chill me to my blood.

Who could grant me both a present in snowflakes,

yet just about kill me in blizzards and avalanches.

Yet, before the season could change,

he'd pour me a cup of hot chocolate that contrasts his pale complexion.

While he did so,

like a vanishing spirit,

he disappeared into the horizon white and pine.

All I am left with are rosy cheeks and chapped lips,

until next winter.