Winter seeps into me

I have my first winter fire roaring in the hearth. It is grey and rainy outside. The Siamese Princess just came in from outside, damp and cold, complaining in her yowly-not-so-pleasant siamese voice, jumping onto my lap, demanding that I stroke the dampness and cold away. I love that she does that.

The Winter brings with her, in her many bags, a sadness for me. The greyness seeps under my skin. Days like today make my heart contract more when sad songs play - it's almost sore. It makes me struggle to breathe. As if the air is thick with globules of that melancholy. There is something beautiful in it too. My writing skills don't allow me to explain properly. I want to write beautiful words that are strung together in a way that does that heart squeezing thing. They're there, in my head - a vast sky above a stark landscape, letters raining down from huge columns of cloud, landing higgeldy-piggeldy in puddles that make no sense.

Why-oh-why is it so inexplicable when I can see it in my head?