The month of coldness, the frost descends,
Laziness welcomes as winter extends.
Memories awaken, frozen in time,
Of childhood winters, pure and sublime.
The first snowfall, a childhood scene,
Playing on roads where joy had been.
Cricket in alleys, laughter in air,
The snowflakes falling, a sight so rare.
The fog clogs at night, the streets lie still,
The cold grips tightly, its icy thrill.
Yet amidst the frost, I found a spark,
A memory hidden deep in the dark.
Notifications flood, recaps appear,
Revealing snapshots of the passing year.
Flashes of moments, both joy and ache,
Etched in the snow, like trails we make.
That girl I met, years before,
Her face appears as winters explore.
Forgotten for years, now she returns,
A fire within, as December burns.
Oh December, you carry so much weight,
Of snowy mornings and a destined fate.
You remind me of all that I treasure,
The too-cold month, yet filled with pleasure.
Yet you are passing out, wrapping this year,
We’ll step into the new days, both bright and clear.
Maybe we’ll miss you, but not your coldness—
Only your echoes, your warmth, your boldness
Written with the chill of December, warmed by the fire of memory.
★ Honestly I didn’t plan to write this—it just happened. Too Cold December is stitched with fragments of my past, the coldness of now, and the memories I never meant to revisit. It unfolded naturally, like scattered thoughts coming together on a winter morning, triggered by the stillness of foggy streets, the rush of year-end recaps, and the quiet nostalgia that December often brings. Some memories stayed hidden for years, but somehow, in the cold silence, they found their way back into words
