cold january nights

[writtensoul]

I remember cold nights in January when you held me close, brushed my hair back, and hummed me a ballad to sleep, as the snow danced down outside the window of our wooden cabin. The hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and cocoa powder would trickle down my throat and warm my cold pale fingers. But the coldness would be nothing in my mind, to the warmth of your body next to mine. We would sit on that ledge next to the frosted window, through which the snow-covered evergreen pines whispered in the winds, bundled up in chenille sweaters and fleece scarves, listening to the fire crackle in the distance.

But those days of warmth have been suffocated by the snowstorm.