Snowed in, somewhat. For the Day 2 prompt.
I ache in the winter when it rains. When the wind, like the fingers of a malevolent one probe beneath.
Deep down in a place sometimes lost where memories once lived, lies the linger of disquiet.For forgetting.
Some days the smell of fresh wood wafts in, borne as though on wings of the wind. Then, these bones - aching in the cold - rejoice.