winter strength, frost and stretch,
colds winds gusting,
jeans and boots keep out wet,
chills and rusting,
fires, toasted marshmallows,
no need to go,
outside, silver moon and crisp,
and fresh, soft snow.

ripped pages, torn papers wrenched from hands white with desperation and shame
I'd hide my heart from you.
But I don't know that I should.
And I don't know that I could.

These are candid, my thoughts.
Honest, without pretence.
But sitting quietly, unobtrusively
Perhaps you'll never find them.