This poem is not about the cold.
This poem is not about the freezing cold wind swirling around me.
It is not about the icy-cold rain drops that start falling down my face every time I step outside.
Nor frozen numb hands and feet that hurt when I move them.
It isn’t even about the bare and lifeless plants I see when I go outside.
This is a warm poem.
A houses-decorated-with-pretty-lights-to-celebrate-the-coming-of-Christmas poem.
This is a being-able-to-play-in-the-snow-with-your-family poem.
A poem that enjoys listening to people sing Christmas carols out on the street.
This poem wears a warm and fluffy jacket with soft and fuzzy socks.
This poem loves to huddle up on the couch with four layers of clothes on and a very thick blanket watching TV while cuddling with their pet kitten.
This poem wants warm and delicious hot chocolate with mouth-watering Christmas cookies.
This poem is not about the cold.