Types: Verse, Original
[Note another]

I sit in the snow,
Waiting, his sketchbook by my side.
Why?
I sit,
With crystals in my hair,
Joining the bow he gave me last Christmas.
Why?
I wait,
Wearing his favorite skirt,
Though it's much to cold for it.
Why?
I shiver,
My new sweater (I do hope he likes it!)
Is not enough to keep out the chill.
Why?
I try
Not to cry, as Christmas Eve drags on
And still, he's not here.
Why?

I sit so that I can see him again.
I wait so I can hear his voice.
I shiver, so that his arms can warm me.
I try to use logic and reason
To tell myself that I should not be here...

Sitting...
Waiting...
Shivering...
Trying...

But I am.
Because logic and reason cannot stand
Against the power of the last thing I'm doing.

Loving him.

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