Away.

Gone now.

Last light of sun
stretches, slithers across
frozen water.

Air bites lungs,
decorations shine out festive.

You are everywhere but
where you should be.
Everything turned inside out;
I walk around
with even my skin on the wrong way.

Without you,
nothing is as it should be.
But it is as it is.
And you are away,
gone with the dying winter.