If every winter I composed a song,
I would soon have four seasons worth of winter songs.
I will wrap up those songs around me into a homely lyric-filled blanket
that I can pull over my head.
Supping up the notes like a big cup of tea.
Slurping up the soupy mess of heartache.
So I can let melancholy rain down on the cobblestones
any day I wish it to feel like winter.
- Eimear McNelis