As the snow sparkles in the sun,

A bright golden ball that creates such opposition against

The vast blue hues.

And

The neighbors are spotted with sleds, skis and skates,

Visibly straining their muscles, as they carefully trek through

The curiously slippery snow.

And

The sound of laughter is carried by the wind,

Past my numbing ears

To the deserted streets filled only by 

The shallow breathing of someone lost to the bitter cold long ago.

And 

The frustration of a child fighting a battle he cannot win,

Against the Christmas lights, that are deciding how to

Kill his mental stability

The feeling of such hopelessness

Brings a smile to my face

As I remember feeling the same disheartenment.

And

A black coat, made of fur, is found easily by my trained eyes, even with fading white snow lying, Idle on its back

With a father leisurely trotting behind the dog in his boots.

And 

Further down the street an open kitchen window,

Allows the sweet scent of gingerbread to grace my scenes

The baker takes a moment to watch her kids place a

Top hat on a newborn snowman.

And 

A ball of hard snow finds its way in front of my face,

As to not hit me

On my right, I see two children,

Who I presume are the culprits for the stray ball,

Reloading their ammo.

And

I make out my fogged breath in the bright day,

My lungs heavy with the chilly air refilling them.

And 

I see the frostbite our fall soldiers suffered,

Displayed on the tall, bleached, wooden stakes.

And 

I continue to walk home briskly, as the cold reaches out to me.

Winter, my old friend, has come to greet me again.