It will be a thin, mean winter

without you around

to keep the cold at bay

to warm my feet

bring me tea

tell me bedtime stories

of summers that would come again.


While your own teeth chattered

you’d rub my toes between yours

chastise me for my complaints

stay in bed with me during blizzards

boost my car

and make me eat better.


Throwing sweaters around my shoulders

we made the best of it

holding on to one another

through late movies

and frigid Sundays.


Behind frosted windows

we survived

until summer came

just as you said it would.


Winter lurks

yet again

colder and meaner than ever

without you around

to stop me from shivering.

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Writer and Poet

Tricia McCallum profile

Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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