Like December

              Like December 

A swarm of memories drifts in slow, quiet circles,

and even the sun feels dim in these sorrow-soaked days—

much like December.

The tighter I held on to you,

the farther you slipped away;

and every dream of mine froze midway—

much like December.

Now it’s only me and this solitude,

speaking in a silence of its own;

even time seems to hush and halt

within these fractured moments—

much like December.