I know that I am unwanted now.
I know you feel I could only make things worse
In the cold, cold darkness of a winter night.
You are already entertaining sleet and snow,
So you think I will ruin your night further.
I know you will blame me
For the unbearable conditions,
For feeling as if your face is cracking,
And especially for stealing the lives
Of those good people who forgot to shut their windows.
I have heard Mr. Poe’s words blaming me
For chilling and killing his love by the sea.
But I also know this:
In the scorching summer,
You will look to the bright sun
As it makes you steam, swelter, and sweat,
And you will cry out for me.
You will cry out for me to come to you
So the day can be made bearable.
And then, I will come
Although you do not deserve it.
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