Winter tasted like the pines of a real tree.
Like the cinnamon of homemade ornaments,
hanging from its limbs.
It tasted like lamb roasts on Christmas,
eggs and bacon and pancakes on break,
when school has been forgotten.

It tasted like wrapping paper struggles,
and excitement when it tears.
The season tasted like water too,
with magic in the air.
Frozen, fluttering, bits of love,
clumping together into a snowball.

It tasted like a winter jackets fuzz,
Tasted of warm hot cocoa that scalds the tongue.
Though it burns,
the tastes runs too true,
the feel of the past, and of childhood that's lost.

The taste is an old taste,
yet every year it gets renewed.
Memories of coco were always stored,
ready for re-living
when nights get freezing cold.

There was one beautiful winter,
that tasted not of snow,
but of sunshine and beaches,
and fresh cut grass.

The city's busy traffic,
over towards the west.
The words "Star light, Star bright,"
graced my tongue every night.
The wishes that followed,
was always for more.

More time, more love,
more family closer.
Back then it tasted of magic,
but now the tastes have changed,
even replaced.

Now, my beloved winter tastes different,
harder and real.
but even though it's changed,
the season is still mine,
with all its imperfections.
The pine isn't real,
the cinnamon is faint,
the snow is all yellow and grey.

I don't wear my winter coats,
and my coco has gone bland.
I haven't seen the beach or
family since that special Christmas week.
though winter is more real,
hard work and effort,
notebook paper, a pencil's lead,
history books and
always more test prep for the future,
there are shining moments
of joy and fun
brought up by my friends.

Hot, muggy, chlorinated air,
choking on the water,
exhausted when I pull myself
onto the surface.

There is silly string to the face,
little girls on beds.
Winter music fills the air,
songs of holy nights,
jingle bells rockin',
and mama kissin' Santa.

The season is not my favorite,
but it's definitely second best,
friends and family get together,
showing off their winter dress.

This year, I might not go to Cali,
See long lost family,
I may be stuck home,
watching the family yelling.
But I'll call up a friend,
and we will talk for hours.
then I'll drink eggnog,
and it will be as if nothing happened.