Like me winter drifts through naturally.
Each year leaving its mark amongst its echo of memories.
Like me the sting sits warm as memories turn cold.
Reminders of curled toes, cocoa noses and ghostly pictures of spring roses.
Places adept at being close to our heart.
Another year over, another year starts.
Like me the snow cloaks, warms and protects at least once a year.
Until I set sail, curtail the emotional derailment in lieu of Christmas and all its merriment.
I guess I was never one for personal development.
Where’s the man who paints with his heart a family he can’t touch?
Where’s my own home? Photographic disasters, mistakes and a thankyou very much.
Like me winter drifts through crisp and clear.
Like me, just once a year.
© G.P Williamson 2017