Little red flowers

Snow flakes

in the biting wind

Carols ( still )

on the car radio

and days that seem to finish,

before they even start.

Losing our way

in book after book

and returning to sleep

so we can go back,

to the dreams we left behind.

The coming of the time

when everyone reflects.

For me,

 a year of incredible valleys,

learning to train this heart

( always like a blank canvas )

to let go ,

to stay gone.

It never works however,

because the little red flowers

you left ;

still blossom around my feet.

Love unused.

Burning the strongest.

The longest.

Like a game

you are always a card in.

It's up to me -

and you,

perhaps.