Does winter ever moan,
When it looks for warmth
In the crannies of the icicles
It holds so dear
As the lifeless rays bring
Joy to the living, does it
Look for a way to return to
The crimson blanket of nothingness
What happens to the frozen leaves
When it thwarts its host of its power
Is it the winter that steals its mettle
Or does the spring bring it to them
Does it loathe the meadow and moon
When zephyr makes the lea dance
Or does it yearn for the warmth still
As the darkling shadow is nigh
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