As I’m about to turn my light off,

I see a glimpse of something red.

I reach to grab it,

And then I notice.

It’s an open lipstick,

And it’s golden.

I was always taught,

It’s what’s inside that counts.

So when I saw this lipstick,

I was astounded.

All those late shifts,

All those business meetings,

Were not as they seemed,

Though that may be a gift,

Because now I can leave.

No two flakes alike.

Like a soft blanket,

It turns the world white.

A fleeting month,

Swiftly runs by,

Twenty-eight days,

And everlasting nights.

Soon the ice on the lakes,

Will grow weaker and thaw,

And the white crystal blankets,

will start to soften and cry.

But not all will fade,

At the end of this month.

Green will fill the Earth,

And the same hands,

Will still reach for each other.

Even though the ice is no longer.

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