A presence is fast fading,
pulled so soundlessly from our hands;
a glorious monument, whose shadow has passed its height.
Betrayal; Summer runs, leaving a chill to fester beneath or faces,
and replaces slackers with workers
and workers with taut, bleak hearts.

Summer’s presence had settled in everyone’s hearts
but its burst in our chests, and the colors start fading,
bathing suits morph into ironed suits of workers.
Winter has paled the tans on their chests and hands
evergreens bleed themselves brown, dieing before our faces
thick fingers of snow snuff the sun with Winter’s height.

The misery of children has reached its height—
school’s yellow javelins pierce their graphite hearts,
frigid ink of Bic pens worn on their faces.
Their young glory is fast fading,
pencils brood where castles had been shaped in hands
Winter replaces these children with workers.

Like children, Winter is shunned by the workers,
trucks plow bleached snow into mounts of great height.
A dark chill leaves them with numb and throbbing hands,
and it freezes the summer blood in their veins and hearts.
Beneath their orange thermal jackets, warmth is fading
white frost is applied to skin, like sun lotion that once masked faces.

They long for the warmth of Summer’s sun on their faces,
and they hate the tension of the workers
but their hopes of warmth are ever fading.
The city’s depression has climbed to dark heights;
many children breathe with heavy hearts
some cry silently into their angry hands.

These hands become dry, split skin ruts hands like red lightening,
and colds run like Summer had on their granite faces.
Something within them has shattered like new ice; their mourning hearts
snow has soon smothered the roads like icy skin; workers close roads,
for winters clutches has reached its height.
Soon, it too will start fading.

Now, the frigid void of winter is fading. Spring warms our hands--
The snow has declined from its height, leaving sun to bathe bright faces
workers morph into slackers, ice begins to melt from everyones hearts.