Whilst the captivating winter wind crept inside the bones of my body, my heart kept crying for the warmth and healing like it had been in stone cold pieces, only rhythmically beating somehow. The icy zephyr swaying from the northern regions gently touching my face and making me reminiscent about the agonising odes I’d recited for my lovers. It distressed me to hear painful mourns about dramatic separation. For all the handwritten letters on a sepia toned paper had a piece of my heart and the scented candles that now don’t scintillate the way they used to. Winter has always had a tinge of melancholy in the air, in my point of view. No matter how tough a guy you are, it all sort of dissolves under a hooded cloak when the freezing wind passes by. It makes you realise the tranquility of the moment and the fading away of a strong exterior. It’s almost like an irony, a freezing weather to melt your soul from an emotional war. I, on the other hand, share a comfortable silence with my emotions and like to keep it hush and low till I’ve reached the extremity. However, the frost at night and the midnight moonshine have been suggesting me a vulnerable approach. It always catches me off guard at 2 am when I sip on this mocha and smack my lips, while I listen to the old jukebox playing one of the greatest Elvis Presley. This is how winter screams comfort to me in the most casual way. Indulged in the peacefulness, was also a tingling in my belly of the aches that my dear had given me when I first saw him. My heart had subconsciously prepared to dive into a garden of nothing but hopeful affairs of our being. I couldn’t keep my feet off the ground as the cold grass touched the back of it and sent me shivers all over. I was smitten by the sight of him. I could hear my heart smiling big this time. It was the coldest season of the year, but I had learnt to love again in the basking warm winter sunlight.