Most say the winter is too harsh.

Too cold.

Too bright.

Too plain.

We can never be satisfied about anything.

Most say that if Winter was a person, they'd be cold hearted and closed off.

Those are the writers that don't reach in deeply. They don't see what I see.

What do I see?

The trees bare with branches hanging low, the reason being the weight of the snow

The blanket of colorless snow over the once pure emerald green grass, as if tucking into what was left of summer to bed.

That's what you see.

Winter can be warm.

Giving us a reason to stay indoors and listen to the winter wind's howl mixed with the crackle of the fire.

The warmth of long desired hot chocolate, the color of my love's eyes.

Take a sip of the cup to warm up your soul for later, Take a gulp while watching the snowflakes dance in the air and gather on the windows of cars.

Watch as the streets turn into unfinished art.

Bundle up for the bitter cold that nip at your cheek and ears.

Stand outside, your hands balled in fists to save them from the cold.

Hush.

Don't whine.

Watch.

Silence.

Peace you hardly find nowadays.

That's what I see, and that's what I hear.