January Cold

To all those who die in the January cold,

and the ones who mourn them, not just in sadness, but in bitter frost.

To all those who play in the sand for once in their lifetime,

and never get to experience it again.

To all those who see life with its bright colours,

only to live recalling their fragments.

To all those who grieve over deafened graveyards, 

and never know how to hear anything but.

To all those who tiptoe, walk on eggshells, 

let their anxiety lead their lives.

To all those who are torn by devotion, 

moved by guilt,

more than any other sensation.

To all those who try, 

painstakingly try, 

and still never know what to do.

To all those who dream

but can never reach the sky.

To all those who have lost something in the January cold;

June is coming,

With all life lessons learned.