Free to be?

Who?

Me?

I hide under this umbrella, ignoring the rain.

We all have one.

We've all done it.

Only my pen acknowledges the cold and gusting wind.

It does not judge,

nor the paper I write upon.

No,

it takes my stormy days and makes them beautiful,

like a winter wonderland.

You can imagine you're on your balmy island.

I did once too.

Deep down,

we know you hold an umbrella too.