The tress are barren with little icicles hanging from their dying branches, the fallen leaves crusted into an eternal form on the cold, hard ground.
Through the looking glass of my bedroom window, I see the world outside coated in a layer of possibilities. A mysterious wonderland. Breaming with magic, of flying little fairies with honey colored hair.
I love how white it is.
I love the way my breath becomes visible against the cold night air. I love that every word i speak can be seen and not just heard, that everything seems to slow down in tune to the leisurely beat of the season.
There are times when I dream of little fluffy flecks of magic descending from the heavens above. I imagine them dancing as they fall softly on my warm hands. But snow is a rare luxury that has yet to grace us in in this small corner of the world.
So, i wait. And i hope.
Maybe this year, my little snow girl can make a comeback?
But chilly days of winter came and went. Yet still no snow in sight.
This morning, I woke up to the sound of something familiar yet very much dreaded. Instead of soft fluffy snow flecks, harsh raindrops were hitting against my window, melting whatever hopes I had of winter away.
Within minutes, my frosty wonderland has dissolved into nothing but the unforgiving chilly coldness of winter's breath and the glistening puddles of the morning shower.
It pains me. No snow. No magical land of dreams.
Just another cold, wet December.