Hoarse

Hoarse is the voice of Winter.

His breath is sharp like the icicles He forms from His fingertips.

His hum, blizzards it brings from the flurries upon the gravel roads.

And His touch, ice upon water.

Frost

Upon flesh.

I grew to love Winter.

Many despise Him.

Yet, many offend His coming.

In this place, He likes to cross my mind.

I never hated Him.

I grew around His wings.

He built shelters for me to protect me from the Sun's rays.

And in spite of His love for Her,

He made sure to give me just enough as She did.

When it came to knowledge,

He comforted me.

He advised me to follow the Ruler.

The one who saw all.

Yet, His voice too seemed hoarse and unsettling

Like wind amongst the pines.

Soon, He will devour us all.

My heart has already frozen itself in place

Perhaps beside another of the same nature.

Perhaps that other heart is near

And his eyes

As grand and youthful as oceans,

Upon this paper now.

Perhaps he may give me shelter amongst the Winter's rage.

Perhaps I can be free whenever I feel too trapped.

But please, give me patience,

This is the first time, I have had something

That was not mapped out.