It is too cold

And I cannot sleep. 

Winter always was a biting feud

Between beauty and body heat. 

I look out my window,

Snow rests peacefully 

Down the noiseless street.

Suddenly I’m thirteen again,

The memories fogged, but sweet. 

A scent that is not there 

Fills my senses undoubtedly,

Something that can only be described 

As the smell of a memory. 

As I look down at the empty street, 

A yearly occurrence

This has to be,

That scent rises 

And it feels so sweet. 

I smile a little

And feel quite warm 

As I drift to sleep.