An ocean once so clear, blue, and deep;
A love once so strong and unforgettable, dies in the flames of the burning red fire, drowns in the rivers of nevermore.
A flower once so handsome;
A friendship once so royal, dies in the season of winter, drowns in the streams of betrayal.
A touch once so soft;
A kiss once so sweet, dies in the darkness of regret, drowns in the lakes of bitterness.

All alone, and wondering, what will winter come and bring?
The cold, the sadness, the frostbitten air, the icy breeze flows in her hair.
Some are relieved, and they play in the snow, but they will stop once they know:
About the child that lay in the cold, wondering if she'll ever grow old.
The clothes she wears are nothing but rags.
Death will slowly start to nag.
It wants to hold her in it's hands, and wants to raise her, never to land.
It wants to end her suffering, not knowing the sorrow it will bring.
Death's cold dead heart will surely know, what lies buried in the snow.
The homeless child's frozen form, never again to feel the warmth; the rush of sunlight on her face, death had finally won the race, between it and life itself.
The child had surely never felt, the embrace of a loving mother, a father, sister, nor a brother, and never will, when it comes hither,
death's call itself, the dreadful winter.