In December, there is not supposed to be color,
much, much less the color of passion.
but there you are,
blooming with blatant disregard for seasons,
bright and unexpected,
breathtaking as you become yourself,
defiantly alive despite the winter
that surrounds you.
About this poem
There are several people in my life right now that have chosen to become who they are, despite pressures all around them to be less than they are.
This poem is for them. I am in awe of you all.