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.