winter (feel)

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i remember so well

its smell its feel

the lamplight is soft and golden on the peeling wallpaper

and thumbtacked pictures of past chapters

outside the night is black,

buried in snow.

but the streetlights glow a cold and beautiful orange

in the fireplace the embers twinkle.

home

the kettle whispers comfort

this old house creaks

tells you the ones you love are warm and safe in their beds.

the streets are deserted

Montreal is sleeping.