January is a changeling,
thrust from the womb of a spontaneous winter thaw.
cold and spare is the road to spring,
winding down dry barks of nature’s law.
From fettered windows,
i greet him
and grieve for his maternal loss.
Hope is but an ill begotten whim,
Melancholy has gone for a toss.
likely friends are we to be,
wading through porous cuts.
Cursed siblings destined to weep,
over bearing the world’s brunt.
Come February ,
we’ll be chapped and dry.
envisioning love’s grand story,
drinking winter’s last brine.
# this poem is part of my poetry collection WHISTLING CHIMES published on Wattpad in 2015. I share it here to let my readers discover my poetic works as well, especially these foundational ones that helped me hone my writing skills.