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Winter
No beach parties
Stodgy food
Itchy jumpers
Blue mood

Not even the beautiful relief of icicles where I live
No snow, no crystalline fantasy
No log cabins with smoke puffing from wobbly stacks
Just endless drizzling rain and a persistent, nagging cough

The romanticism of the winter sonnet
The patchwork quilt of cosy fires and hot chocolate
The rosy cheeks of pre-teen girls on ice skates
These are a televised delusion, unavailable for my reality

I spent my early life in the sun
My face tickled by frangipani and wild kaffir lime
Occasionally I was forced to wear a jacket
When the nights got cool, once in a while

Those were northern days in a southern hemisphere
And now I live closer to the Antarctic
You would think the seasons would have more impact
But all we get is this endless drizzly rain

Winter brings out a peasant sense memory in me
Past lives of struggles for warmth and food
I want to run away, yelling
Screaming toward the sun, asking for a libation of liquid gold