The twelfth and final month
Those days that make me yearn for my puddle soaked, mud covered, numbingly cold homeland.
The sun is beating down in Southern Hemisphere:
Desert instead of snow,
Ocean in place of ice,
So many would love to be surrounded by so much warmth
And yet it all feels so wrong.
I see cards decorated with snowflakes and dancing polar bears,
And yet
It‘s all a lie
It’s forty degrees and the sweat is dripping down my knees
My complexion has always been one step away from snow
But this is a step to far
I’ve turned into a real life snowman
And no amount of festive cheer can convince me that melting in the sun is the way to spend Christmas
About the Creator
Ellie Hopwood
Classics and Archaeology student trying to stumble through the baffling thing that is life while battling Anxiety disorder and peoples misconceptions of ASD. I write poetry, fiction; and on historical events/ people, and mental health
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