A Winter Sonnet

It's one more season; we can see it through
If we're as careful as we ought to be,
Respecting every breath — some we can see
As we traipse through the cold world, turning blue,
And some invisible, granting no clue
To our existence. Will you think of me
When dreaming of the stars, uncertainly?
Myself, I promise I will think of you.

Time passes, but we will think ourselves young,
Wild, unaffected by the winds that blow
Or years that pass, or facts we ought to know.
The stars shine carelessly where they were hung,
And when you taste those snowflakes on your tongue
You may remember childhood. I hope so.