If I wasn't a writer, I might not be writing this for you darling—
But I'm confused about what I should and wanna write, ah pardon me

Okay, maybe this is what I'll write
It's December and I have to say goodbye, but I hope
You and I are not as far from January to December
I want us to be as close as December to January, so there's only welcome between us; a little tantalizing
Thus write my dummy piece, and this reaches your heart— I hope
With numb fingertips and warm heart, I'm writing this for you, my dearest

Beneath the snowflakes gently falling on my skin, I make a wish that we'll meet soon
Like little children playing in the snow and throwing snow at each other / I see snowflakes melt on your lips; great hallucination
Can yearn to be kinder to me?
My eagerness to meet is quite intoxicating
Let the yearning howl in my reveries

This is a modest poem about yearning in December in a nutshell
For you my dearest

©Uni Nindiani