How harsh and bitter the cold can be,
At times I feel it's grasp take a hold on me.
I try to fight it and look towards the lights,
Of the warmth and joy Spring will bring.
56 days is all I have left,
Of this bleak and dreary existence.
A lot is riding on sticking it out,
I hope I'm strong enough to last.
How I long to be done with all the games
And the soul-less practices for profits gained.
Less than two months and I will be free,
To explore the riches money cannot offer.
Everyday I count,
Soon to be free
My plans for the future,
Are nearly complete.