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’tis the season, a tragic love story

It’s here. That cold that licks your bones and laughs as the deep chill spreads like liquid nitrogen through your veins. The warm glow from the holidays disappears like a candle being snuffed out, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.

And, though the earth’s orbit tells us daylight has just begun to extend itself once again – Us creatures of the sun know now begins the longest days of the year. 

The frost has burned itself onto every surface, and the living seek refuge underground where a hint of earth’s warm heart can still be felt. 

And now, there’s no escape. We are trapped here, with borders closed and restrictions barring us from warmer refuge. Where will we run to now?

Home. They say home is where the heart is, but mine longs for rays of sun penetrating my icy cold flesh with heat rays of welcome embrace. I long for the sea and the sounds of birds and dancing trees. 

The elements are unchanged. The air is still here, but the warm breeze has changed to biting winds that cut like glass. The earth is still here, but it’s frozen, covered in death rather than bursting with new life. 

You have betrayed me, my love. As you do every year. Yet I wait for you to return like a tragic love story. 

Days pass. Still I wait. I seek other comforts, but there is none like yours. Huddled by the fire in the darkness, I wait. 

Return to me summer, my love. Don’t leave me here for so long. I miss your touch on my skin. The sound of the life you bring. Your smell. Your light. Your warmth that penetrates my soul. 

Yet, there is hope, for I know you will return. And though you leave me again and again, I will welcome you with open arms. I will run to you, and forget you ever left, as you change places with winter once more. 

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