the fog is gone. the grass is wet from early morning dew. all the flowers in this park are just beginning to open up for the sun. the birds are leaving their nests, loudly, calling out to dawn. winter is slipping away from between my fingers. 

the roads are grey, being swept clean of the leaves they collected all night. there are people here in neon vests, chattering away by themselves about the state of the world. cars are stopping by the gate just there to buy themselves chai and biscuits. night is slipping away discretely. 

your hands are in mine, cold and numb. i turn the key and drive away, leaving our winter's night alone.

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