Winter Passing

Winter acts as a metaphor and mimics my worst days.
Its cold, detached and restless.
The merky smog that creeps around the city is in direct correlation with my hazy mind.
It wanders.
Cold winter days always seem to conjure up tucked away memories,
swept under the rug for a reason.
My head is spinning,
spinning like mad.
Every ray of sun that passes through a mid afternoon cloud is like an ode to a summer day.
Longer days,
Relaxed days,
Lackadaisical days sitting in shade,
Nights when all that matters are last calls and making it home,
Its days like these im desperate for,
This seasons like quicksand,
The more i struggle the deaper i sink,
I have a yearning for a clear mind and warmer days.