A whisper of winter's kiss
Its cherry lipstick blotted on youthful cheeks yet
Barely smudged on the older and wiser
Who never leave without their wool scarfs 

A city is a graveyard
White ashes falling from the sky
For there are men made of snow
And men made of blood
Men made of money 
And men made of mud

The clouds bestow pillows upon those without beds
Those with no protection from the season's deepest breaths
Those with no home, no warmth, no goodwill
Charity passing with the holidays
Annual benevolence 
From such well-rounded young adults
And such ignorant fools
Familiar with the spider,
Unknowing of the bite

The storm is coming
Bundle up tight
Say your prayers twice tonight
A scream of winter's embrace