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Snowflakes dancing like a feather,

Slowly descends behind my big pale window.

Like white butterflies formed together,

To alter this foreign land I on.

Deadly crystals, beauties of December,

I called them, from underneath my covers,

It is my contradicting conception.

Between, admiring the majestic white clot beauty,

While loudly cursing this chills.

My cat stretched before me,

Proudly showing off his comfy huge furs,

mocks my most vulnerable form,

Like hermit in different layers of clothes.

Today, two things I figured.

I'm entirely jealous of my confident cat.

Not because of his furs,

Because he belongs in luckiest chosen few,

knows to enjoy this weather.

The second would be self-realization,

The fact that here, I'm all alone.

In an unfamiliar neighboring country,

ventures my luck to take home gold.

The warm underneath my covers,

Even the snuggling ball, next to me.

Will never be worth compare,

To the warmth, my family could offer,

like closing my eyelids unconsciously.

This cold made me paused,

Made me curl, grunting like a ball.

Made me see certain things,

'There will never be Christmas, like home.'

_Darkcamelot~