The snow is falling silently,

As it always does.

Through the far window,

At the end of the dimly lit hallway.

A curtain is drawn to the side,

And outside is blue and white and destitute

Wrapped up in severe loneliness

Snow falls gently and infinite

In petals of cold and shiver

Snow is not angry, not greedy or lustful

It is expressionless and void

Of feeling, of warmth.

It's cut up in four, by the window pane

And still abounding justly, full of pain

Snow is hurt a thousand times over,

It's been cut by ice and ruined by rain

Snow cares not because of its pain.

It offers a blanket, from outside it seems

Like a gentle escape

But it falls and it falls and silently it suffocates

In tribute to its pain.