• The floor here is cool to the touch.
    Winter has come, and winter has struck.
    A hand reaches out, seeking a flame.
    She is looking, and searching.
    All of that is in vain.
    A chill plays across the skin of the seeker,
    Surprising but not unexpected.
    She'd been dreading this day, when winter would strike.
    It had waited, unbidden, concealed in the night.
    Nobody expects winter's blow in the day.
    Could it somehow, just maybe, be here to stay?
    With the blood of many still spilled on its hands,
    Winter flees, its job done, no one left who can stand.