A Winter’s Song

When Waiting Becomes Goodbye

Winter was cold,

and yet it was bearable.

Even when tears traced my frozen cheeks,

that goodbye

felt strangely alright.

Winter brought me back again.

To a heart half-emptied,

you returned—

with a greeting that quietly filled it.

I lingered where my footsteps led,

and even in the sharp wind

there was no sorrow,

only a calm exchange

of silent glances.

Letters, piled like fallen snow,

I open them one by one,

reading through the night

until darkness thins,

again and again.

Words I cannot fully understand,

stories carried deep within the chest—

I gather them all,

seal them into an envelope,

and send them away.

I sing this winter alone,

until waiting turns into goodbye,

whether it marks a beginning

or an end.

To me, winter is a greeting returned.

Like a robin

with a russet-red breast,

I quietly acknowledge you—

as if we already know.

Goodbye.

And hello.

The winter’s greeting

I whisper to myself

again,

and again.

*these are my own paintings*