It is a cold that you can never wear enough clothing for,

eventually, it will reach your bones.

You will not like it, it will make you uncomfortable, restless.

The snot on your face will freeze, the wind will not give, whipping and lashing at you.

Your cigarette never had a chance.

It is a home that you could only wish for,

that invites you in, so warm, so familiar.

You will long for it as you are away,

and you will take it for granted upon your return.