The snow hears all cries. It hears all and it comforts all it can. Snow and ice--- a freezing burn, offering a numbness for the pain. It falls thickly, blinding the world. With only blind eyes looking upon someone it is easy for them to hide.

And for some hiding is just enough, for others it is not even close.

The cry is loud, the story sad. The snow falls. The figure moves slowly, as thought lost in a dream, the snow and ice burning the person's face, as the snow tries to wipe away the near frozen tears.

The snow still falls.

Extremities are close to frozen, the water and cold chilling the person to their very core. Numbness is setting in. The snow offers all it can, to take away the feeling. The snow hears the cries of the heart, the pain of a soul and tries to comfort, the best it can. The soul is screaming, for this to go away, for the pain to disappear, to be left alone. The snow does what it can.

The snow is falling.

White flakes cling to the person's coat, piling up, refusing to let go. The person is slowly encased as they walk, the snow offering what it can to the wounded heart. A hug, a jester of love. All they wanted, something simple. The snow heard the cry and tried to help, offering a cold but loving embrace.

The flakes dance in the wind.

The person can't take their eyes from them. Dancing and swirling around before hitting the cruel pavement that ends their beautiful waltz. The person holds open their arms, and the coat is pushed open by the wind. The person smiles. A hat it wretched from a head and tossed aside.

The snow is falling on the woman, standing in the middle of the empty road.

Her hair dances around, trying to join the flakes in there scarred and beautiful dance. Her face turns upwards, against the winds, enjoying the coolness on flushed skin. Her tears are long since frozen, her toes and fingers numb, her body shaking. Still she opens her arms, and pleads for more. Once last thing from the snow, the kind, kind, snow.

The snow hears the cries, they are so strong, so sad, so desperate. The woman is moving through the snow, her shoes wet, toes frozen, but her face turned up, watching the dance of the flakes, while her heart is yearning to join them. The snow can hear her, she knows it can.

The snow falls harder.

The woman lets a small laugh escape blue lips before, she feels a warm tingle throughout her chilled body. The snow heard her after all.

A long strong wind ripped across the street, tossing the snow around violently. Zero visibility, for a few moments, nothing can be seen on the road. Finally the roar dies down, and the snow falls gently and quietly on the empty street.

The snow comforts the cries it can.