Poetry

December

It's December and the sudden gush of cold breeze reminds me of you,

Again, somehow I am here sitting all by myself, in the bar

Staring at that window seat where you used to sit.

It's December, it's not the month of love, but the gentle hum in the air around me pokes

And tells me,

That it's that time of the year,
When you look back and see how much you have grown, seen and lost

It's that time of the year,
When past rhymes with regret and future come in a box labelled fragile.

It's December,
Served cold on a plate of resolutions.
It's December,
The bell chimes,
As it's time,
To break bonds.
To sleep tight.
To throw away apologies and blames.
It's December,
And it's time.

Wake up,
It's December, a cold one.