Golden tea leaves, tip of pen,
Taste of gin burning like sin;
I scroll through my tablet and see,
Many of you building snowmen now;
Some are still attempting to build,
Castles in the chilly winter air.
I sit here dreading tomorrow,
Building the courage to tell you,
How I feel about you exactly;
It would take all ounce of strength.
And building up the guts to take on.
Whatever your reactions may be.
There may be flames, may be frost,
Shattered glass or slammed doors as well;
I need to tell,
Because the stakes have gone higher.
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar