In the winter I miss them the most.
I miss them when pines shiver with frost,
and my breath looks like a ghost.
I want so desperately to sing them a song.
The kind that comes from a cartoon.
I never imagined being away for so long,
breathing under different moons.
I’d braid her hair and make her hot chocolate,
hold her hand when the sunset dies.
I’d play with him in the snow if he wanted,
patch up scraped knees if he cried.
For the eldest I’d study forever,
as long as it helped him through.
And as long as I could bring us all together,
January wouldn’t be blue.
In my mind I can still tuck them in,
even if one is sixteen.
Laughing about who snores the loudest,
and never really going to sleep.
So one last time I’d like to share
something I wish I could whisper in their ears.
A lullaby of my eternal love,
to disguise nightmares and fears.
The sort of song that warms up a chilly room,
and becomes a blanket of sorts.
In a winter as icy as a tomb,
they deserve nothing less than candy and pillow forts.