• I look outside the window of my bedroom,
    And all I see is white.
    Little drops of snowflakes dancing in the night.
    The glass that I am touching,
    Is icy to the touch.
    If this is really cold,
    What is it like beyond?
    This boundary which is keeping me
    From this nippy, yet euphoric experience.
    I take another chance,
    Or an examination,
    I cast my breath upon the window,
    Which created a light, misty fog upon the glass.
    Surely, this is what the holidays are about?
    The little things, the curious things,
    Those firsts in which you thought you’d never have.
    Building a snowman, a white Christmas,
    With a bright light guiding your way.
    Whether there are seven, nine, or thousands of lights flickering this winter,
    They all are for a similar purpose:
    To light up the glorious winter.
    For when I look out my window, I see them shimmer together.
    Rainbows of bulbs, candles that won’t let out,
    Ooh! I don’t think I can wait until morning!
    I’m restricted to leave my home, until the sun shines,
    Once again through my window.
    So I gingerly, and quietly lean my forehead against the glass.
    And examine my surroundings once more.
    The wind is swaying the trees.
    Few left their havens to venture out into this frigid habitat.
    Yet those who have,
    Are beaming and dancing.
    For a first,
    This crystalline paradise suffices.